


By Your Side

by SageMoo



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Devotion, Gen, Honesty, Love, M/M, Partnership, Reunions, The Breach (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 16:40:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 59,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9132586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SageMoo/pseuds/SageMoo
Summary: All Hawke had left him was a short letter and no explanation. After receiving word from Varric, Fenris set out to find and confront Hawke about abandoning him. He should have known that following Hawke would only lead him on yet another dangerous and chaotic adventure.





	1. Memories

Fenris had spotted the castle several hours ago on the horizon; it had appeared as he rounded a bend in the road atop a neighbouring mountain side. The sight had stopped him dead in his tracks for a moment and he’d taken in the scenery. It was a solid and proud structure, having clearly withstood all the brutal weather these mountains could throw at it over the years. Snow was banked up around the base of its walls; he could see that even from a distance. It was positioned in the valley between two mountains, which explained why he hadn’t caught even a glimpse of it until now. He had even doubted that he was traveling the right way for a time, but had trusted the make-shift map and directions the dwarf had sent him. Fenris took out Varric’s letter from his pack:

_Broody,  
Firstly, Hawke is alive, and mostly well._

_He asked me to write you to inform you where he was - We're both at Skyhold. I've included a map and directions below; since I'm sure you'll immediately come looking for him. Who am I kidding? I hope this letter even finds you while you're out searching for him, Maker knows where._

_Just remember when you get here; I had nothing to do with him leaving without a word to you - I told him it was a bad idea, in fact, I promise! Please, let me keep my best friend?_

_Seriously though, go easy on him, I'm sure he had his reasons; we both know his judgement is usually pretty sound. He loves you, and he hasn't been the same since he arrived. I hope that will change when you're finally at his side again. I almost started calling ~him~ Broody..._

_Take care of yourself._

_Sincerely,  
Varric_

_P.S. Watch out for demons – Avoid the breaches (The green stuff in the sky)._

_P.P.S Bring furs, it's incredibly cold here._

Fenris’ glowered as he recalled how angry he’d been upon receiving Varric’s letter, but he also couldn’t deny the way his heart had skipped a beat on hearing that his lover was alive and he now had a location. He glanced over the childish drawings below the letter and couldn’t help but smirk at the dwarf’s attempt; he shouldn’t give up writing. A gust of wind blew past the elf, causing him to almost lose the parchment. He tightened his grip on it and pulled the hood of his coat tighter over his head with a shiver; he didn’t like this cold at all. He shoved the parchment back into his pack and took another look around him. Despite the conditions, he had to admit that the landscape was beautiful; he had never seen so much snow. The ‘green stuff in the sky’ he’d also noticed; there was a giant swirl of a green vapour-like phenomenon that had ‘broken’ from the sky beyond Skyhold. He could see it clearly in the distant; rocks and other shapes he couldn’t quite make out, swirled around the chasm. Trust Hawke to travel to a location with a giant vortex spinning nearby. Fenris had heard many murmurs in the towns he’d travelled through, about a “Breach” in the veil; that must be it. So far he had managed to avoid any demons on his journey; he had spotted a few minor breaches along the way and merely taken a wide arch around them. He felt slightly cowardly for doing so, but having come this far he didn’t really want to risk not making it to his destination; to Hawke.

The elf continued his lonely slog through the mountains; a path clearly not used much by travellers. The great sword felt colder than he could ever recall strapped to his back, the winter chill leaving a fine layer of frost on the blade. He was glad he’d thought to buy enough food at the last town he’d travelled through, and hadn't needed to hunt along the way; hunting in this sort of cold didn't appeal to him one bit. It occurred to him that he had not crossed paths with anyone in several days; he hadn’t even seen many animals on this stretch of the journey, save the odd white hare or fox. That suited him just fine; there were not many people he cared the company of anyway, except for Hawke. As he walked he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering to the last few days he’d spent with Hawke, his feelings about that time, more than two months ago now, leaving him with mixed feelings. 

For the first time in as long as Fenris could recall, he’d felt content, even happy with the direction his life was taking. At Hawke’s side he’d felt important; important beyond just being a tool or a pet. He felt like Hawke needed him, for more than just the marks on his skin. Fenris looked down at his freezing hands, the white lines of lyrium matching the colour of the snow around him. As Hawke came to mind the elf thought he caught a glimpse of a faint and fleeting glow arise from the lyrium, but it was gone too quickly for him to be sure. He gave a snort and dropped his hands to his sides as he continued walking. 

It had taken a long time for Fenris to acknowledge Hawke's feelings for him, and even longer for him to fully accept and welcome them. Hawke was a mage, after all, and mages were not to be trusted. Mages were selfish. They had proven that time and time again, they just couldn't help themselves; the power they possessed always corrupted them in the end. But it felt different with Hawke, he had challenged so much of what Fenris believed, so much of the way he saw the world. They had argued and butted heads over a great many things when they'd first met. He may even have hated Hawke at first, for his beliefs and optimism in the world. Fenris had fought him hard for a time, telling himself over and over that Hawke was no different to every other mage. But he couldn’t lie to himself forever; Hawke was always reliable, always open and always honest. On that first night, Fenris had walked a very fine line between wanting to kill him, and wanting to kiss him... 

He could still clearly remember that night with Hawke. The moment he'd felt Hawke's large hand rest on his shoulder as he had turned to leave, the jolt he'd felt in his chest at the touch, the confusion about what he was feeling. Rage? Desire? The two feelings had always been so closely linked in the past. Fenris had felt the lyrium in his skin burn to life beneath Hawke's hand and quickly spread over his body, to areas he was ashamed to admit. In a split second, and before he could even acknowledge he was doing it, he had turned on Hawke and shoved him against the wall. In that moment he realised he wasn't sure if he wanted to kill or kiss the man. He was glad now that he'd chosen the latter. Fenris had suddenly pressed his lips and body to Hawke's desperately; taking Hawke by surprise. He could feel the bite of the lyrium spread over his body as he kissed Hawke, pressing against him as he remained, quite willingly, pinned to the wall. Fenris could still recall the exhilarating feeling of Hawke's arms wrapping tightly around him in response, as he opened up completely to the kiss with a soft moan of pleasure; the way he'd breathed out Fenris' name against his mouth between kisses. The elf’s excitement was only elevated further by the feeling of Hawke's growing arousal as he pressed his thigh between Hawke's legs. Another moan of desire. Fenris was nervous; his memories of past physical intimacy scarred completely by Danarius and the others who had set out to hurt and humiliate him. How could he still be feeling so physically drawn to this man? This mage? It could only end in pain. Yet Fenris allowed himself to be tugged to the bed where their desperate and passionate embrace was eventually sated; the endless concerns of the conflict of Kirkwall forgotten for a night. That was the first time Fenris had truly enjoyed being with another person in such a way; a mutual pairing where both cared about the wants a desires of the other. He wouldn’t forget it any time soon; he’d been wrong about Hawke.

Fenris felt his cheeks flush a little as he recalled that night of passion. But he hated himself a little that he’d walked out on Hawke soon after; he shook his head in self-chastisement. He hadn’t returned to Hawke until months later; the memories and pain of his past that that night had awoken had been too much for him to bear. He regretted that decision to this day. Those months had been wasted on self-pity and self-destruction; he had spent endless nights sitting alone, stewing on bad memories and drinking copious amounts of wine. But when he’d finally come to his senses and returned to Hawke's side, he had accepted Fenris back without question. 

The depth of his feelings for Hawke after that had been difficult for Fenris accept. Not only had he never felt this sort of devotion for anyone before, but it made him feel almost a slave to Hawke. He wanted to please Hawke whenever possible, his happiness made Fenris happy, and he’d do anything to protect the mage. These feelings had taken him completely by surprise, and they frustrated him; he didn't want to end up being reliant on anyone or needing anyone again. But nothing he did seemed to stop that from happening; he just couldn't bear to be away from Hawke. When Hawke had welcomed him back into this house and into his life, he’d simply smiled a little sadly, and Fenris had known instantly how much he’d hurt the man by leaving. But yet he was willing to give Fenris another chance.

The following months had meant everything to Fenris, he had followed Hawke on every adventure and mishap he’d found himself caught up in. Fenris smiled faintly to himself as he recalled the chaos of their lives, and continued his slow trudge through the ankle deep snow. Despite his reservations, Fenris had opened himself up to Hawke like he had no one else in his life. But with all that trust he’d placed in Hawke, he couldn’t help but wonder why he was now on a mountain side, freezing and alone, running after a mage who had disappeared on him with barely a word. Fenris clinched a fist, the smile fading. What had loving Hawke really gotten him? Fenris had practically begged him to come along once he’d caught wind of Hawke preparing to leave, but Hawke had refused. And the next morning Hawke was simply gone, with only a letter left beside Fenris as he slept. That letter Fenris had screwed up almost immediately out of anger, but couldn't bring himself to throw away. Fenris pulled out the crumpled parchment from his breast pocket now and read it to himself again:

_My Little Wolf,  
I know you will not understand why, but I must leave you for a time, I am unsure for how long. _

_Please trust me, I have given you no reason, so far, not to. Please don't be angry with me, or do anything stupid._

_Take care of yourself, I hope to see you again soon, you can rage at me then (I look forward to it)._

_Love ~always~,  
Hawke _

He wasn't sure how many times he'd studied every word Hawke had written, trying to make sense of it all or trying to find some clue about where he might have gone, what he might be doing, and why, above all, he had gone alone. With Varric’s letter, at least he now had the answers to the first two questions. The other he would ask Hawke himself, and he'd better have a very good explanation. Fenris shoved the letter back into his pocket and marched on, a little more angrily now.

Ever since finding the letter Fenris had been searching; he'd never thought the search would lead him into a mountain range this cold and isolated. Hawke was going to have a lot of explaining to do. This time Hawke had walked out on him, with only a letter to poorly explain why. Fenris picked up his pace, settling into a slow jog along the lonely mountain path. He’d had far too much time to think on this journey, and that had only lead to brooding and heartache. He hated to admit it, but he missed Hawke severely. Varric’s letter had at least hinted that perhaps Hawke was missing him too; he had better be. 

After another few hours Fenris spotted two hooded figures approaching from further up the path he was traveling. They both carried bows at their sides, as if ready for use. Fenris immediately dropped to a crouch and slipped behind a nearby tree. As he peered out from the tree’s shadow, he realised he’d acted too late; they had already spotted him and were making their way towards him now, at a cautious pace. Fenris waited where he was and watched them approach, reaching his hand up to rest on the pommel of the sword on his back. In that same instance he felt the cold, sharp point of a blade press to the side of his neck, just inside the hood of his coat, and he froze in place. He emitted a low growl, both from anger and irritation at his own lack of caution in leaving his back open.

“Hand off your sword,” came an unfamiliar female voice from behind him, and Fenris released his grip on the sword, slowly lowering his hand. 

“I did not hear you. Well done,” he allowed the annoyance to show in his tone.

“Stand up slowly and remove your hood.”

“Who are you?”

“Does it really matter with a dagger to your throat?”

Fenris held his hands out to the side as he slowly stood. For so many years he would have immediately thought Danarius had finally caught up with him, but Hawke had helped him take care of that problem too. He was so close to reuniting with Hawke now, he tried his hardest to remain calm and not get himself into further trouble; not easy. Fenris fixed his eyes on the two hooded figures still in front of him; they had paused a few yards away and raised their bows with arrows notched towards him. So they were one group, he should have suspected. Reluctantly he raised his hands and lowered his hood to reveal his silvery-white hair, a mess beneath the fur lined coat, and his obviously elven ears. With his hood down, the lyrium tattoos worked into his skin would be easy to spot, even for the pair standing at a distance; they ran from his chin down and covered the back of his exposed neck. In contrast to his tanned skin, they were practically a beacon to onlookers when not covered. The blade of the dagger disappeared once he’d complied.

“Master Fenris then?”

Fenris raised a brow and looked over his shoulder to see who it was that had addressed him by name. It was another elf; dalish, from the tattoos covering her face; he’d never seen her before. She had taken one step back, but had not lowered her blade just yet. Her green eyes were fixed on his chin and briefly followed the lyrium lines she found there that disappeared down his neck and into his coat. She was clad in leather and also had a bow and quiver, but unlike the other two, hers were strapped to her back. Fenris noticed that the colours of her garb matched that of the other two figures, and on the centre of her chest he saw a small sword and eye symbol embossed in the leather. Her maroon coloured hood was draped over her shoulders, leaving her short-cropped copper hair open to the chill of the mountain air. Quite pretty really, Fenris noted.

“Less master, but yes. Why do you know my name?”

“Master Varric sent word to expect an elf matching your description”

“Ahh…” Fenris relaxed a little, and watched the elf tuck her dagger into her belt likewise. 

“I am Teyrelle, scout of the Inquisition,” she motioned to the other two further up the path, but then also across the path to Fenris’ left, “as are they”.

Fenris glanced to where Teyrelle had pointed and narrowed his eyes in annoyance at spotting yet another scout he had not noticed. He was slipping; too much time spent thinking about Hawke and less on paying attention to his surroundings. He would be more careful in future. He turned back to the scout.

“Are you to escort me?”

“No, you’re free to continue on your own, Skyhold is not much further now. The guards at the gate will welcome you; we have sent word ahead of you so they will be expecting you.”

“I see, thank you,” he spoke stiffly, feeling slightly foolish that he’d allowed himself to become surrounded with such ease. 

He reached up and replaced his hood, giving the other elf a brooding look. Fenris thought he caught a glimpse of a smirk on her lips as she turned to join the other scout; the one he had missed completely. A human male Fenris noted, before turning on his heel and stalking off down the path. The figures he had spotted first had vanished from the path, and Fenris’ eyes darted from left to right as he walked through the patch of footprints they had left in the snow; the only trace that they’d been there. He silently cursed rogues.


	2. The Key

Less than an hour later, and nearing sundown, Fenris crested a hill and suddenly Skyhold towered above him. He paused and gazed up at the castle, a sense of owe washing over him. The castle was aged, and certainly had areas that needed attention, but it had an air of strength about it that he could appreciate. Bastions marked each corner of Skyhold’s walls, and banners had been draped over the battlements at regular intervals. Fenris noted that the symbol on the banners matched that of the embossed symbol he’d seen on Teyrelle’s armour. The path to Skyhold abruptly ended and turned into a long, flat, stone bridge. The bridge lead to, what Fenris thought, must have been the main entrance of Skyhold, which was marked by a strong defensible barbican. As Fenris neared the start of the bridge, he noticed that it spanned a deep ravine that made the castle look even taller than it really was, with the cliffs forming a sort of natural wall below the castle. At the large portcullis ahead was a collection of guards protecting the entrance, they seemed to be talking amongst themselves casually, though the way they carried themselves clearly showed good training and discipline. As Fenris stepped onto the bridge and approached, their talk ceased and their attention turned solely to him. He removed his hood as he proceeded, not interested in piking anyone else’s suspicion, and the guard closest to him on the bridge gave him a curt nod in appreciation. 

“Greetings!” The guard called out when Fenris was still about 20 yards away.

Fenris raised a hand in greeting, and when he was a little closer added, “Greetings, I am told you are expecting me.”

“Ah, Master Fenris, yes.”

The guard approached and extended a hand, which Fenris took and shook firmly. He wore a full set of armour, polished to almost mirror finish. Beneath his helm Fenris could see a few tufts of black hair poking out, which matched the full, but neatly trimmed, beard. The scars on his face spoke of many battles fought, and the immaculate condition of his armour suggested more of pride in his position, rather than lack of use. 

“If you continue on through the gate,” he motioned forward with his hand, his tone friendly, “Walk through the lower bailey and up the stairs to your left. Then just cross the upper bailey a short distance to your right you will find the Herald’s Rest.” The guard turned back to Fenris, “I am told Master Varric has already organised a room for you there. He apologises that he could not greet you upon your arrival, but that he and Master Markus,” Fenris smirked a little at the use of Hawke’s first name; he knew of no one that actually used it, “… are disposed elsewhere outside of Skyhold currently. They are due back just after sundown.” The guard nodded as he finished delivering the information he had been tasked with.

“How did ‘Master Varric’ know when I would arrive?” Fenris inquired.

“Scouts sent word of your approach a day or so ago.”

“Right… The Inquisition has very skilled scouts,” Fenris stated in a flat tone, wondering how long they'd actually been following him for.  
Despite his tone, the guard seemed pleased with the comment and nodded once more.

“Thank you, sir.” He stepped aside to let Fenris pass.

As Fenris approached the castle entrance, the portcullis was raised slowly to grant him access, the old gears clunking loudly in protest. No other guards spoke to him, they only nodded as he passed, watching the marked elf curiously. Once inside the walls of Skyhold Fenris pulled his hood back over his head; no need to attract any more attention than necessary, he thought. He followed the guard’s instructions and made his way across the lower bailey, taking in the sights as he went. There was a make-shift marketplace, with a few merchant stalls scattered about selling various wares, both useful and not. In front of the stable to his left, was a burley bearded man chopping wood. He glanced up as Fenris walked by, wiping the sweat from his brow and giving the hooded elf a suspicious look. Fenris couldn’t help but notice the way his shirt clung to his sweaty form, accentuating the muscles beneath and it immediately irritated him that he’d noticed; he was obviously missing Hawke in more ways than he’d realised. Fenris hurried past and could hear the moment when the man went back to his chopping.

Fenris quickly ascended the stairs and crossed the upper bailey, there was a lot of shouting and sounds of metal hitting wood coming from the practice yards just outside the Herald’s Rest. An unkempt group of fighters were sparing in the yard under the watchful eye of a rather large and shirtless qunari. The horned man was too busy bellowing at the men fighting to notice Fenris as he paused to watch from outside the tavern. There was a black eye patch covering the qunari’s left eye, which he’d secured to one of his large horns; it reminded Fenris of one of Isabela’s shipmates, though that’s where the similarity ended. The amount of scars visible on the man’s bare chest warned that he was not a man to be crossed lightly.

“Come on Krem, there’s a shield in your hand!” 

The barking of man's orders followed Fenris into the tavern, as he left the chill of the mountains at the door. Fenris scanned the room quickly; the place was in better shape than The Hanged Man, for sure, and its patrons too. But it was still early in the day for a tavern; he would withhold judgement on its clientele for now. The candles and fireplace tinted the room in a dim, amber light, leaving the tavern feeling rather warm and welcoming. Fenris spotted the bar keep in his survey of the establishment, and hurried over, keen to seek solitude in his private room.

“Greetings, I am told you have a room prepared for me?” The bar keep stopped what he was doing and looked at Fenris, still hooded. He cocked his head.

“Should I?”

“…I’m told Varric organised something?”

“Oh, right! Then yes, that I do,” he rummaged around under his bar and returned to produce a key. “You’re on the first floor.”

Fenris took the key and was about to leave, but paused.

“Actually, I’d like a bottle of wine, please.”

“Master Varric has already supplied a bottle for you in your room, sir.”

The dwarf knew him too well; a fond feeling welled up in Fenris’ gut at the thought.

“…Well then, I’d like a second bottle,” Fenris dug into the coin purse at his belt and dropped several coins on the bar impatiently, “Whatever this will buy.”

“Oh, by all means, sir!” The bar keep's face lit up at the coin offered and disappeared through a door behind him. He returned shortly after holding a dusty, yet elegantly decorated wine bottle, “Our best, sir.”

Fenris nodded and took the bottle from him, immediately turning to proceed up the stairs, ignoring the other patrons. More people had entered the tavern in the short time since Fenris had arrived, and they were already well on their way to becoming a rowdy lot tonight. And why not, Fenris thought, he couldn’t think of a better way to cope than by drowning the fear of demons, with alcohol. But then, he drowned a lot of things that way, and tonight wouldn’t be any different. 

___

Fenris was seated on a dusty throw-pillow on the floor in the corner of his tiny inn room. After removing his filthy traveling clothes and using the wash basin, he’d polished off the bottle of wine Varric had organised for him and had just started on the second. His mood had become decidedly more morose with each mouthful of wine, but this far in he wasn’t feeling much of anything anymore; just the way he liked it. A loud knock on the door finally interrupted his latest attempt at drinking himself into a stupor. He took another swig from the wine bottle before reluctantly pushing himself up from the floor. He’d been enjoying his solitude, the warmth of the room, and the feeling of being clean again after a long journey. He’d almost been at the point of dozing off when the knock brought him back to the here and now; Hawke. 

Fenris walked quickly to the door, steadying himself on a chair for a moment along the way; he shouldn’t have stood up so quickly. He moved to the door and paused with his hand on the doorknob, unsure of what he was going to say to Hawke. In all his musings on the way the Skyhold, he hadn’t actually considered what he’d say when he saw the man again. He froze at the door, griping the knob tightly with a frown.

“Broody?” Varric’s voice disrupted his thoughts and Fenris sighed, swinging the door open and walking back to his corner of the room.

“Varric,” he said flatly.

“…Well, it’s good to see you again too, friend!”

Fenris grunted and took his seat in the corner once more, sparing a glance over Varric’s shoulder in case Hawke was hiding back there, but he was not.

“I see you made it here in one piece; sorry we weren’t there to greet you at the gate.”

Fenris kicked a spare throw-pillow toward the dwarf lightly; an invitation for him to join him. He held the wine out to him, but Varric shook his head. 

“No, thank you. How was your trip here?” Varric remained just inside the doorway, clearly not planning on staying long.

“Long. There were demons," he replied harshly.

Fenris took another sip from the wine bottle as he observed the dwarf. Varric looked just as he always had; red hair slicked back, flashy chain around his neck, and chest hair spouting from his open neck line. He looked the same as he did when Fenris had first met him, the same time that he’d met Hawke.

“Yeah, that’s normal around here now. I see you made it through ok though.”

“Yes, I avoided them like a coward,” the drawl of his voice betrayed the amount of wine he’d had. “I couldn’t avoid your scouts though, they were more of an issue.” He gave a snort of disdain and Varric laughed. The dwarf walked forward and reached down to pluck the bottle from Fenris’ hand. He took a sip from it, but didn’t return it to the elf.

“Ahh yes, Leliana’s scouts. Had a run-in with them, did you?”

“Let’s just say, if I had been a threat to Skyhold, I wouldn’t be any longer.” Varric chuckled and moved to lean against the wall beside Fenris. After a moment of silence he spoke in a more tentative, measured tone.

“So… Hawke is in his room,” Varric held out a key to Fenris with his free hand, letting it dangle from his fingers as he waited for Fenris to take it. “He asked that I give you the key, it’s one of the rooms overlooking the garden. Up to you if you’d like to see him tonight or stay here.”

Fenris looked at the key and then up at Varric with a slight sneer.

“He couldn’t come himself? It mattered that much to him that I came all this way?”

Varric sighed, “Come on, Broody, he’s been through a lot since he left you. He almost didn’t make it out of the Fade alive; not everyone did. Be nice.” Varric dropped the key into Fenris’ lap, who made no attempt to catch it or say anything in response. Varric stood beside him for a few moments longer before placing a hand on his shoulder in silent camaraderie, “We’ll talk again tomorrow.” He pushed off from the wall and made his way back to the doorway, where he paused, glancing over his shoulder, “You travelled all this way to be with him, Broody. Just go and see him already, would you?”

“Shut up, Varric.”

Varric shook his head as he walked out the door.

“Nice to see nothing has changed!”

Left to his own devices once more, Fenris half-heartedly began a search for his wine bottle, in need of another drink. After a moment, realisation hit him and his eyes narrowed in annoyance as he recalled Varric taking the last sip.

“VARRIC!” He called out to the dwarf in anger, but the only sounds he heard were the distant drunken babble and singing from the tavern patrons a floor below. 

“Since he left you. That’s right, Varric! Since ~he~ left me. This was his doing, why should I feel pity for him?” Fenris stubbornly remained in the corner of his tiny tavern room and stared down at the key in his lap. Be nice, Varric had said. Why should he be nice? Hawke should be here trying to win him back after leaving like that. But he didn't even care enough to try.

___

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there staring at the key in his lap, but by the time he’d finally decided to move the candles were burning considerably lower in the candelabra. With the wine stolen from him, Fenris had sobered up somewhat; his anger had subsided to some degree, to be replaced with a longing he had become accustomed to. He pushed himself up from the floor and scooped up the key as he rose. Stuffing it into his pocket, he walked to the door, grabbing his coat along the way. 

By the time he was down the stairs and making his way through the tavern, his coat and hood were once more in place. Most of the patrons from earlier seemed to have either left for the evening or passed out in various locations around the room. The only ones left still drinking and talking loudly included the quanri he'd spotted outside, and a small collection of robust looking men gathered around him. Most of the rabble of men he'd been instructing in sparring, seemed not to have made it as far into the night as he had, and he could see a few of them lying on the floor asleep nearby. Fenris faltered in his walk to the door, doing a double-take at a peculiar sight; seated on the qunari's lap the large man now had a rather finely dressed, dark haired man. He had a moustache so well groomed and curled to points, that even Fenris was impressed. His olive skin, dark features, and how particular he clearly was about his general appearance, reminded Fenris of many of the mages he'd encountered in the circles of Tevinter; he couldn't help but scowl at the man. Why was a Tevinter mage here? The man's half lidded eyes hinted at his altered conscious state, and the drunken smile on his lips betrayed the reason. The way he sat on the qunari's lap, in a relaxed and very familiar fashion, suggested this wasn't the first time they'd been this intimate with each other. The way the qunari casually placed a hand on the man's back or neck idly as he talked, confirmed his suspicion; a couple? He'd seen it all now. 

Fenris' quiet observation of the couple was suddenly interrupted as a drunken women barged past him, shrill laughter following as she almost stumbled to the floor. Fenris didn't bother to help her, but took the opportunity to quickly side-step several other patrons and slip outside. Once out and into the crisp darkness he sighed deeply, enjoying the cool air on his skin. He'd had enough now, all he wanted was to find Hawke. He looked up at the stars shining brightly in the cloudless sky, the moon nowhere in sight. Pulling his coat closer around him, he thought he heard a faint bird chirp from a nearby tree; surely he hadn't been in his room that long? He made his way out into the bailey; it was mostly deserted, save a few people making their way to their rooms after a long night of drinking. There were stairs beyond the practice yard that were more well lit than the rest of the bailey, they appeared to lead up to the castle itself. With haste, Fenris walked up the stone stairs, taking three at a time, and walked through the open doors of what looked like a main hall. The fact that the doors were still wide open at this hour was surprising to him, though it made him wonder if this was part of how the Inquisitor, who he'd heard plenty of gossip about, went about making people feel welcome at Skyhold. Besides his little run-in with the Inquisition scouts, his arrival at Skyhold had felt quite welcoming indeed, in hindsight. He supposed that even the scouts had been accommodating, whilst ensuring the safety of their keep. 

Fenris stepped into the main hall and appraised what he saw. There were two rows of tables lining each wall, both with numerous candles still burning and adding a warm glow to the large room. The throne at the far end was modest, but well kept, as the rest of the room was. The drapes hanging from the ceiling matched those he'd seen hanging from the castle walls, and complimented the colours chosen for the carpet running the length of the room. The only guards present in the hall were also at the far end, appearing to guard the two doorways leading off from either side of the throne. 

Fenris was so caught up in surveying the room that he failed to notice the two people standing just outside a wooden door to his immediate right. A very faint feminine laugh alerted him to the pair and his eyes shot in their direction, taken by surprise. They had clearly already noticed him, however, and were now looking his way. The woman looked a little flustered, almost embarrassed, as she stood with her back to the man behind her. She was clad all in leather, as if she had just returned from some sort of outing beyond the walls; a bow and quiver rested against the wall beside them. Her short golden hair was tucked behind her ears that gave away her elven heritage, and the golden glow of the room seemed to make her eyes appear of a similar colour. Fenris noted she had no facial tattoos, so probably not dalish this time. The man behind her was also an elf, though his attire was much different to hers; a simple cream tunic, green slacks and bare feet. His most striking feature, Fenris noticed, was that he was completely bald and wore some sort of bone fragment around his neck like a trophy; he too did not have any facial tattoos. The pair stood in silent appraisal of Fenris, as he observed them likewise, and he noted the man’s hand moved to rest on the women’s shoulder in a familiar, even protective, fashion; she leaned back against him lightly in response. 

“Hello,” the female offered Fenris the greeting, extending a warm smile towards him and raising her hand. “You look a little lost, can we help you?” The male elf remained quiet, merely watching Fenris with interest.

“Hello. I’m... looking for the garden, I suppose.”

“You suppose?” The male elf chuckled, “Have you not decided yet then?” Fenris caught the light caress the man gave to his female companion’s shoulder, and realised he had probably walked in on some private moment between the pair.

“I... have not decided if I wish to see the person waiting for me there.” His tone was a little more blunt than he’d really wanted and he cleared his throat.

“I see. Well when you do decide, the garden is through the doorway to your left.” The man motioned with his free hand, his eyes never leaving Fenris. It was under his scrutiny that Fenris realised his hood probably made him look quite ominous in this dim lighting; he didn’t care.

“If you don't mind me asking, who are you meeting there?” The woman had spoken again, her tone hard to read; was she asking out of curiosity alone, or was she making sure Skyhold's citizens were safe?

After a moment of consideration, and seeing no reason to be dishonest, he responded, “Hawke.”

“Ahh,” She nodded, realisation finally showing in her face. Clearly she too had been informed of Fenris' scheduled arrival. Fenris grunted in annoyance.

“Why is my business known to so many?”

“Well, it’s important to know who is coming and going in Skyhold at a time like this,” she offered, adding, "And, well... Varric."

“Of course, why am I not surprised?” Fenris turned and began walking towards the door the man had indicated. He paused with his hand on the doorknob to glance back at the couple; they had helped him after all, he would try to be friendly in return for once. He opened his mouth to offer thanks, but noticed they had already turned their attention back to each other, and were now locked in a more intimate embrace against the wooden door. He promptly shut his mouth and turned away, pushing through the door that lead to the garden. As he closed the door behind him he heard more faint laughter from the pair as they stumbled through their own doorway; perhaps they had just returned from the tavern themselves, he mused.

Fenris found himself standing in the crisp night air once more, beneath the spotted sky, this time surrounded by Skyhold's garden. He stood still in the quiet for a time, looking around; the dim light made it difficult to recognise much of what was actually there. Some trees, a bench here, some potted plants there. Above the garden he could make out a landing of sorts, with what he thought must be doors leading to private quarters. So Hawke was up there somewhere; was he still awake? Only one door appeared to be framed in a dim light from within; Hawke’s?

He stood and stared at the door in silence, listening to the sounds of nature around him; a soft breeze through leaves, a cricket chirp, a rustle of something small in the bushes, and the early bird looking for dawn. He saw no flicker of light beyond that door, suggesting no movement from within. He pulled the key from his pocket and turned it over in his hand a few times, nervously, making his way to the stairs that led to the landing. 

Eventually he found himself standing in front of the door; the faint glow of candle light beckoning to him from within. He hesitated, staring at the dark, aged wood, and once more not knowing what he would say to Hawke when he saw him. 

Coward. 

He let out an exasperated breath and shook the confusion from his head, placing the key into the lock finally and turning; no more hesitation.


	3. Less Like a Bear

The lock opened with ease and Fenris slipped inside quietly, closing the door behind him as gently as possible so as not to wake Hawke if he slept. He stood with his back to the door as he looked around the room. It was a little bigger than his inn room, but not by much. The room was notably tidier, however, with stylish furnishings; clearly a room reserved for guests of the Inquisition. There was a small table with two chairs; a finely crafted candelabra, which explained the light in the room; a storage chest, and a more comfortable looking seat with cushions. There was a second door directly in front of him; it was closed and he supposed it lead into the sleeping quarters. Fenris noticed the familiar staff propped up in the corner by the second door; the large lyrium crystal lay dement, enclosed in a natural tangle of petrified vines. Despite his distaste for magic and mages, he’d always appreciated the design of Hawke’s staff; it was simple, raw, elegant. It was Hawke’s. He couldn’t deny that the power it held was impressive, especially with Hawke’s mastery and control of it. He approached the staff cautiously. Having it here in front of him made his heart leap a little; Hawke was really here. He reached his hand out and ran his fingers over one of the vines that encased the lyrium; the delicate hint of magic he found there caused his markings to glow faintly in response. Standing in the candlelight, the room completely silent, he rested his forehead to the staff with a sigh; despite his mistrust of magic, this staff belonged to Hawke and brought back so many fond memories he had of the mage and their time spent together. He closed his eyes, fighting back the feelings of nostalgia, when he heard the faint click of the door behind him. 

Fenris quickly spun around and took a step back into the corner, the staff against his right shoulder as he turned to face Hawke. The mage stood in the doorway, one hand still on the doorknob as he looked at Fenris hesitantly. The room behind him was pitch black, Fenris noticed, the only light coming from the candles beside him. Had he been asleep, or sitting up in the dark? Hawke was bare-chested, with only a towel around his waist, but the short strip of brown hair down the centre of his head was completely dry, suggesting his bathing had been completed much earlier. He looked freshly shaven, the short stubble on his face shaped neatly into the familiar goatee that Fenris loved. Fenris noted the fresh bruises and new scar on Hawke’s chest; they looked recently healed, but still painful. When he looked up and met Hawke’s green eyes finally, he realised they were already watching him closely, gaging his reaction. Just as the elf feared, he wasn’t sure what to say at all now; so instead, he just looked at Hawke from under his hood silently. Hawke’s expression was one of exhaustion, from more than just being awake in the early hours of the morning; he looked worn out and drained. After a moment of silence Hawke opened his mouth to talk but Fenris cut him off.

“How could you?” He spoke quietly, feeling completely sober now. He was unsure of his feelings; anger, sadness, hurt? 

Hawke only sighed audibly and stepped aside, holding the door open wider to invite Fenris into his dim sleeping quarters. Fenris narrowed his eyes at Hawke, who averted his gaze, and the elf slipped past him into the next room. He walked to the opposite side of the room before turning around to face Hawke, who had left the door open to allow the candlelight to continue casting some light into the room. The pair stood at opposite ends of the room. The sombre lighting seemed to fit the mood, and Fenris couldn’t quite make out Hawke’s face, but he could see that the mage was still not looking at him but to the floor at his feet. Fenris waited stubbornly for him to speak. When he finally did, Hawke sounded utterly defeated. 

“Do we have to do this now, Fenris?” 

Fenris snapped. With two quick steps his face was inches from Hawke’s, his fists clinched at his sides.

“When should we do this then, Hawke?! In a few more months? You left with barely a word! A letter?! After everything we’ve been through?! After…” He could feel the fury starting to build up inside him again, the betrayal he’d felt when he first found the letter, and when he’d first started his search for Hawke. “After all of this?! After… Us?” He motioned to the two of them, unable to put into words exactly how he felt, but for once not feeling ashamed at the hurt that was evident in his voice. The markings on his hands cast a soft blue light into the room as they responded to his rage, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to punch Hawke.

Perhaps Hawke sensed Fenris’ struggle because turned his face away and drew back, flinching. Fenris could just make out the guilty frown that crossed his face at his accusation, but it was mixed with something more; fear? He immediately felt ashamed for his threatening outburst, and forced himself to take a step back. He never wanted Hawke to feel anything but safe with him. 

“I’m sorry.” Hawke offered feebly in a soft voice.

Fenris gritted his teeth, “That’s it!?”

“What more can I say?”

“I don’t know. Why? Why did you do it? Why did you leave me? Why didn’t you take me with you? Why didn’t you tell me anything about your plans? Just why, Hawke, why?!”

Hawke let out another sigh and wiped a hand over his face in a defeated gesture. He kept his hand there for a moment, perhaps collecting his thoughts or trying to think of the right words to respond with. Eventually he removed it and closed the gap between them once more, suddenly standing in front of Fenris, a mere few inches from the elf. Hawke was almost a head taller than Fenris, and he bowed his head now to look into Fenris’ eyes, which reluctantly looked up to meet his gaze. At this distance Fenris could smell the soap he’d used earlier, and fought the urge to reach out and touch his broad shoulders; it wasn’t easy. He wanted to be angry at the man, he deserved to feel how much he’d hurt Fenris, he didn’t want to be walked over; but under that pleading gaze Fenris could already feel his resolve begin to crumble.

“Please, Fenris, not tonight,” he spoke softly, one hand reaching up to finally pull the hood from the elf’s head.

Hawke’s beseeching words crushed the last of Fenris’ anger and he sighed audibly. With one last look into those green eyes, Fenris moved in closer still to rest a hand on the mage’s shoulder. He pressed his face into the side of Hawke’s neck letting out an exasperated groan; he didn’t want to do this now either, he was spent. The smell of Hawke’s skin felt like home.

“I hate you,” he said with no conviction.

“I love you too.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, Fenris, I do.” Hawke slipped his hands around Fenris’ waist, running his fingers up the back of his coat and drawing the smaller man into a tight embrace. He turned slightly to place a kiss on the elf’s pointed ear, lingering there. 

“No, you don’t…” Despite his response, a faint smile touched Fenris’ face as he felt his lover’s lips against his ear, his words clearly an invitation for him to continue, and it wasn’t lost on the mage. 

Hawke smiled as he pushed Fenris back enough to gaze down into his eyes once more. He brushed a hand down Fenris’ cheek, smiling more at the faint glow his touch caused in the markings on Fenris’ chin. Without further hesitation Hawke pressed forward, pushing Fenris against the wall and forcing a kiss to his lips. Fenris didn’t fight him but willing returned the kiss, with as much enthusiasm. He draped his arms over Hawke’s bare shoulders and dragged his hands down his muscular back, noting the new scars he felt there. The feel of Hawke finally in his arms again sent the butterflies in this stomach into a frenzy. As his hands reached the towel still wrapped around Hawke’s waist, Fenris tucked his thumbs into the top and tugged it off roughly, letting it fall to the floor. Hawke’s faint and familiar gasp of anticipation against Fenris’ mouth only urged him on further. He slipped his hands down to playfully squeeze Hawke’s behind, drawing him in tightly against his body as he continued the passionate kiss. He could already feel Hawke’s excitement growing as it pressed against his pelvis, the thin layer of fabric between them making it hard to hide. 

Fenris heard a longing groan from Hawke’s lips before the mage leaned back to look down at him, mouth ajar.

“Maker, I’ve missed you.”

Hawke’s hands suddenly slid down his sides deftly and tugged his shirt and coat up and off in one smooth motion, Fenris made no move to hinder him. Now also bare-chested, the faint glow of the more extensive lyrium tattoos on his chest and back added light to the otherwise gloomy room. Everywhere Hawke’s skin brushed against his own, the lyrium grew brighter; something Hawke had always taken great pleasure in, especially in certain areas. Fenris watched the mage as his green eyes followed the path his hands took, enjoying the look of fascination and awe they held on watching the way his body responded to Hawke’s touch. Hawke’s fingers found their way to Fenris’ pants, tucking in to the front and causing a sudden intake of breath from the elf. As Fenris pressed his lips back to Hawke’s, he felt the mage make quick-work of the ties holding his pants in place, and found himself suddenly relieved of them. It wasn’t long before his undergarments were added to the pile of clothing now scattered around them. Hawke pressed his naked body firmly against the newly exposed elf, pinning him the wall once more, unabashed at showing him just how excited he was. He breathed out heatedly against Fenris’ lips as he felt the elf’s excitement rival his own. 

Fenris used his whole body to shove back at Hawke, pushing him pointedly toward the bed, and breaking their kiss only long enough to murmur lustily into his ear. 

“Show me how much.”

The devious grin that crossed Hawke’s lips in response to his words sent a flush to Fenris’ cheeks, and the glow of lyrium grew brighter in the room.

___

Fenris awoke mid-morning to find Hawke’s arm still wrapped tightly around his waist, and his naked body curled snuggly around him from behind in a warm embrace. Fenris smiled sleepily to himself at the old feeling of being completely safe in his lover’s arms, and lay still, enjoying the moment. He was finally back, after months of searching, and he didn’t regret a thing. He moved his hand to rest on the back of Hawke’s larger hand, idly stroking the backs of his fingers, when he felt Hawke stir.

“Mmm, good morning,” Hawke’s voice was tinged with sleep, but his tone hinted at a smile. He tightened his embrace on Fenris, nuzzling his face into the back of his neck, where he placed a kiss before laying still once more, “Did you sleep well?”

“Better than I have in months…” He allowed the implication to remain, though his tone was light. “I’ve missed you, Hawke.” 

Fenris turned slightly to press his cheek to Hawke’s, the movement of his skin against Hawke’s body giving away the man’s morning excitement. Fenris laughed faintly, the sound causing another smile from Hawke before the man pressed in close with an impish grin.

“Must be your turn to show me how much?” Hawke’s voice took on a husky quality and he let his tongue graze the edge of Fenris’ ear.

“…I didn’t already?” Despite is feigned protest, Fenris all but shivered at Hawke’s advance.

“I’ve forgotten already.”

Fenris rolled over to face Hawke, giving the expectant man an amused smirk. He pushed himself up and climbed over his lover to straddle his waist. Leaning down, he surprised Hawke with a passionate kiss to rival those from the previous night. Hawke instantly responded by letting his hands begin to explore his lover’s still naked body, but Fenris wriggled back out of his grasp and disappeared beneath the covers.

___

Hawke’s moans of pleasure were abruptly cut short but a loud knock at the front door. Hawke instantly shut his mouth and froze, while Fenris, still in a precarious position beneath the covers, followed suit. They both listened for a moment, wondering if it had been their door, and hoping it hadn’t; the only sound in the room now coming from Hawke’s soft panting breaths. Another loud knock rang out, confirming it was definitely coming from their door. Fenris’ head suddenly reappeared from under the covers, and he looked down at an amused Hawke with an annoyed expression.

“What?!” Fenris called out angrily. His head snapped towards the front door, clearly visible through the open bedroom door, and he glared daggers at whoever was beyond it.

“Broody?”

Fenris groaned in frustration, “What do you want, Varric?!” 

Fenris made no attempt at hiding his annoyance at the interruption from the dwarf. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hawke, still beneath him, trying hard not to laugh at the situation. An amused chuckle of realisation could be clearly heard from outside. 

“Shut up, Varric!”

Unable to hold it back, Hawke joined in the laughter, which only caused Varric to laugh harder from outside. Fenris turned back to Hawke and covered his mouth with one hand, but his annoyance had also turned into amusement at the awkward situation and on hearing Hawke’s laughter. Hawke pulled Fenris’ hand aside and called out to the dwarf between chuckles.

“Good morning, Varric!”

“So it seems! Just uh… ‘come’… down, when you’re finished.” The dwarf continued laughing as he left.

The pair shared a brief look of amusement before Hawke sat up and swivelled his legs off the bed. He kept Fenris sitting on his lap as he moved and gave him another tight embrace as he kissed the elf’s lips tenderly. 

“We’ll finish this tonight, I hope?” He waggled his brows at Fenris with a grin, before standing and lifting him to the floor gently in one motion. 

“Of course. But don’t think I’ve forgotten our conversation.”

”Oh, I would never be so lucky, Fenris.”

___

Hawke lead Fenris through the main hall, indicating to a door about half way down the long room.

“The way council room is this way.”

As they walked along the corridor, Fenris caught a glimpse of movement from Hawke and looked up at him. The mage was looking at him from the corner of his eye with a slight smile on his lips. 

“What now?”

Hawke turned back to face the way they were walking.

“Nothing, I’m just glad you’re here.”

“Are you?”

“Of course.”

“Well I’m still angry with you.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about that. You didn’t seem very angry last night though…”

“Shut up, Hawke. I just…. channelled my anger into something else.”

Hawke couldn’t help but laugh, “Is that what it was?”

“-What’s funny?” They’d reached the large set of doors at the end of the hall were Varric was waiting for them, leaning against the wall. 

“Nothing.” Fenris cut off his inquiry before he could probe more.

“Pleasant morning, Broody?”

“It ~was~.” Fenris stalked to the opposite side of the corridor and stood beneath a window to gaze out, arm rested on the window sill.

“Oh, come on, Broody, for all I knew you weren’t even there.”

“New topic, please.” Fenris replied, flatly.

Varric turned his attention to Hawke, who had folded his arms and was looking between them both with an amused expression, clearly far less embarrassed by the recent interruption. 

“Well, well… Thought you’d finally shave again, did you? You look decidedly more like a Hawke and less like a bear.”

Fenris’ eyes moved from the scenery outside back to Varric and Hawke, watching their exchange with curiosity. He raised a brow as Hawke touched his smooth cheek and gave his neatly trimmed goatee a scratch.

“I thought it was about time.”

“Uh huh, sure you did.” Varric spared a knowing look toward the elf at the window and smirked. “Well I’m glad the old Hawke is back.”

Fenris frowned at Hawke, who appeared to be avoiding his gaze; perhaps Hawke had really missed him as much as Varric had claimed.

Hawke smoothly changed the subject, “So the council is discussing its next move?”

Fenris couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming over Hawke as the two began discussing the plans the war council were presumably meeting over, and he quickly lost interest in the discussion. Hawke was wearing his usual armour, the one he’d picked up in Kirkwall many years back. Hawke had always been very particular about his appearance; his cheeks shaved clean, as well as the sides of his head, and his goatee neatly trimmed. When Fenris had first met him he had been shaving his entire head clean, but after the two had started their relationship, Fenris had suggested he stop out of curiosity for what he might look like with hair. After the usual arguments, they had come to a compromise, which had resulted in Hawke’s current look; a very short cropped mohawk. Fenris smiled a little to himself that in the months they’d been apart Hawke hadn’t changed his appearance at all; though now he wondered about Varric’s words just now. Hawke had always been meticulous about his clothing too; they were always neat and cleaned when possible, the metal on his armour always polished, and the leather always oiled. He was even fussier about his staff, which he basically cared for as if it were his child. Fenris loved that side of Hawke; it was quite a contrast to the brutal killer he could be in combat. Hawke was full of contrasts; he was ruthless, almost merciless at times, but then in private he would talk to Fenris with such compassion and love. Fenris had noticed that this side was beginning to rub off on him too, at least when it came to Hawke, and only in private. In all, despite his previous reservations, Fenris was very proud to be at the mage’s side. 

“So why are you waiting out here? Can’t we be a part of these discussions too?”

“You know they’re very private about their plans. They’ll tell us the details we need to know soon.” Varric turned to Fenris, “Finished gawking at him yet, Broody?”

“What? Shut up, Varric!” Fenris glared at the dwarf before turning back to look out the window with a scowl. Hawke moved to stand beside him, leaning down to unabashedly brush his lips over Fenris’ ears, speaking in a whisper.

“I’ll never tire of your gawking.”

Fenris let out an exasperated groan and brushed Hawke aside with a sweep of his arm, but a faint flush had already touched his cheeks. 

“What is wrong with you two? Do you have no discretion at all?!”

Hawke only grinned down at him, seeming to be more than a little amused at the elf’s short temper.

“You know we don’t, Fenris, we never have.”

Just then the door of the war council opened and a scantily clad, dark haired woman walked out, pausing in their midst to look at each of them. Her gaze lingered on Fenris, who was still in the middle of his scowl.

“My, their mood seems to have permeated into the hall.”

“No, he’s always that happy,” Varric offered.

“I see,” she turned to Varric. “Well you may go in now, they have finished their discussions.”

“Thanks, Morrigan”

The woman nodded to Varric and Hawke in a familiar way, her eyes pausing on Hawke this time.

“Well, well, you look different, Hawke. Special occasion?” 

“Can’t a man shave?”

“I had my doubts when last I saw you. This is an improvement.” 

As she left, Morrigan offered Fenris a tilt of her head. Her eyes swept over him, glancing at his tattoos only briefly before moving on down the hall with a confidence that Fenris thought bordered on arrogance. The staff on her back confirmed his suspicions.

“How many mages are there here?”

“A lot.”

“Great.”

“Just think! So many opportunities to further change your opinion that not all mages are demons bent on world domination,” Hawke offered cheerfully.

“We’ll see.”

___

The trio entered into the war room, Fenris walking in last and moving to stand behind Hawke’s shoulder, as he often did, happy to take a back seat in discussions such as these. The other four people in the room all stopped their various tasks, or quiet conversation, to turn their attention to the new-comers. Fenris looked at each of them briefly; a blonde haired man in soldier’s attire, with a thick fur covering his shoulders and a sword at his hip; an olive skinned woman dressed in ridiculous looking silks and finely applied make-up; and a red haired woman wearing similar attire to the scouts he’d encountered the previous day. Must be this ‘Leliana’ that Varric mentioned; one to keep an eye on. The last person present was the elven woman from the main hall he’d spoken to the night before, she was wearing more formal attire this time, and he noticed her eyes really were golden; it hadn’t been a trick of the lighting. This time her bald elven beau was nowhere in sight. The elf offered Fenris a smile of recognition and stepped forward to offer him her hand in greeting.

“Hello again.”

The rest of the room looked at Fenris curiously, which he ignored, extending his hand and giving hers a firm shake. 

“I trust you enjoyed your evening?” He asked, trying not to show his amusement that he wasn’t the only one who’d been interrupted recently. The faint blush to reach her cheeks confirmed she had.

“Uh, yes, thank you. You?”

Fenris couldn’t help but snort lightly and nodded, while the rest of the room looked on in confusion at the exchange.

“So, you’re the Inquisitor?”

“Yes, Bren Lavellan. But please, just call me Bren. You’re Fenris then? Hawke has told me a lot about you.”

“Yes.” Fenris spared a look at Hawke, who shrugged with an innocent expression.

“A pleasure, Fenris. This is Commander Cullen, Josephine and Leliana.” She motioned to each in turn, who all nodded a greeting to him before turning their attention back to the Inquisitor. She cleared her throat to regain her composure and took on a more formal tone to address them with. “As you know, we have been discussing our next move and, with Morrigan’s council, we will be travelling to the Arbor Wilds, to seek out a temple there. The temple of Mythal. We would like the three of you to aid a small group in reaching that temple. Morrigan warns that the area is quite dangerous, so we will need all the help we can find to get the party through the Wilds and to the temple safely. We are expecting that Corypheous may also be in the area, as we fear he is looking for the same temple. We already know his red templars are certainly in the area.”

“Why is the temple of significance?” Hawke asked.

“Morrigan believes an eluvian is within the temple that Corypheus might be seeking to use. Obviously we would like to stop that from happening.”

Hawke turned and gave Fenris a “Here we go again” look, and Fenris nodded.

“I bet Merrill wishes she was here.”

“Good that she’s not.”

“Merrill?” Bren probed.

“Nevermind,” Hawke turned back to the others. “So who are we going into this temple with?”

“Uh, you won’t be, actually. We would like you to help clear the path to the temple with the others. I’ll be following you with only a small group to the temple itself.”

“I see, very well then, that sounds simple enough; we’re good at path clearing,” Hawke shrugged and Fenris nodded in agreement. “So when do we leave?”

“Now. We will be sending the majority of the Inquisition troops and mages out shortly, we were hoping you’d accompany them, along with Commander Cullen.” Cullen nodded in agreement at Bren’s words.

“Emperor Gaspard has also agreed to send some of his finest chevaliers to aid us,” Cullen added. “They should already be on their way. If we leave now, those on horseback can meet them there, clear a main camp and begin the assault towards the temple. Those on foot will serve as replacements if the resistance is strong enough, which we fear it might be.”

“What are red templars?” Fenris stepped forward, interrupting the conversation.

Cullen turned his attention to Fenris, not seeming to mind the interruption at all. 

“The red templars are a smaller rebel group of templars that have been corrupted by the use of red lyrium. A man named Samson is their General, and he has been serving Corypheus, who is using them as a result.” 

“Red lyrium?”

“Lyrium corrupted by the blight.”

Fenris frowned and looked up at Hawke, who was already looking at him with a concerned look on his face; he’d reached the same question. 

“Is Fenris at risk?”

Cullen looked from Hawke back to Fenris, considering the question for a moment. 

“I’m… not sure. These red templars consume the red lyrium to accelerate its effects. But unlike normal lyrium, it can also have an effect by exposure alone, but that is far slower and can take years. Of course, the rest of us don’t have lyrium in our skin, so I’m unsure how that would be affected by exposure to this corrupted lyrium. You’re certainly a unique case. I would advise staying away from any red lyrium nodes you might find in the Wilds, and also any templars who are in the advanced stages of corruption; such as the behemoths or any you see with crystals sprouting from their skin, to be safe.”

Hawke looked back to Fenris with an uncertain, hesitant look. 

“Maybe you should-”

“I am not staying behind.” Fenris cut him off with finality, and noticed Hawke clench his fist as he turned back to the rest of the room. This wasn’t the last Fenris would hear about this, he realised.

There was a brief moment of silence following Fenris’ words, before Hawke relieved the tension in the room by speaking.

“We’ll gather our things and meet you at the stables.” 

The Inquisitor and her advisors all nodded in agreement and the meeting appeared to come to a close. Fenris, Hawke and Varric all filed out of the room.

“I’ll meet you two at the sables.” Varric fled, leaving Hawke and Fenris to walk back to Hawke’s room in silence; the tension thick in the air.


	4. You Matter

Once back in the privacy of Hawke's rooms, Fenris began attending to his small pack of belongings as Hawke disappeared into the sleeping quarters to do the same. Whilst rummaging through his various bandaging supplies, rations, whetstones and oils, Fenris found the red scrap of cloth. He’d begun wearing Hawke's colour shortly after they’d first met; a token of his loyalty to the mage. When Hawke had left him those few months ago, it was the first time he'd removed it, out of spike, though he could never bring himself to remove it from his travel pack. He brushed it clean of dust and wrapped it around his wrist twice, awkwardly trying to tie it with his free hand as Hawke walked back into the room. He walked over to Fenris and brushed his hand away to tie the cloth himself in silence. Not meeting the elf's eyes, Hawke kept a hold of his hand once he'd finished tying the symbolic token to his wrist.

“Please consider staying here.” Hawke’s tone was tinged with a plea, and he gave Fenris’ hand a tender squeeze as his eyes rose to meet his gaze finally.

“It's not up for discussion, Hawke. You will not leave me behind again.”

“It would only be a brief separation. Please Fenris, I don’t want to see you at risk from this red lyrium corruption. Who knows what it could do to you?”

“We are always at risk, Hawke!” Fenris tugged his hand from Hawke’s, “Why is this any different?”

Hawke sighed heavily in defeat, he knew Fenris well enough to know that this argument was futile. 

“Then please do me a favour and follow Cullen’s advice? Stay well away from it. Let me protect you for once; you don’t always have to be throwing yourself carelessly into every battle to protect me.”

“I won’t promise anything.”

“Fenris!” Hawke frowned at him in annoyance, his voice rising and Fenris suspected that the conversation from earlier was about to happen. “This! This is exactly why I left you and didn’t say anything! You have no idea what you do to me when I see how blasé you are about your own safety! I can take care of myself too, you realise? I do not need you to constantly charge in and get yourself hurt on my account. Please ~stop~ doing that, and start considering your own safety for once. Have you even considered what it would do to me if I lost you? I cannot lose you too, Fenris. I've already lost too many people I care about. I also don't want to see you constantly hurt because you’ve jumped in to take a sword for me. I would like the chance to protect you too, damnit; you know I am perfectly capable of it…” 

While Hawke’s rebuke started off in anger and close to a yell, by the time he’d finished he'd managed to bring the volume down and his tone was level once more. The intense look he gave Fenris now showed a deep concern that Fenris wasn’t used to seeing. Fenris took a moment to take in all that Hawke had said; he wasn't sure what to say to any of it. Hawke was right, of course, he didn’t value his own safety nearly as much as he valued Hawke’s; he hadn’t really considered that Hawke might feel similar about him.

After waiting for Fenris to reply and receiving nothing but a contemplative look, Hawke reached out and rested his hand carefully on his neck. He tugged him closer, speaking softly. 

“Please, if you won’t stay here, please do me that favour.”

“Fine. I will try, Hawke.”

Hawke drew Fenris’ face towards him tenderly and kissed him slowly on the lips. He pulled back a moment later and rested his forehead against the elf's.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that sooner, and left you behind instead. I never wanted to and I will never do that again. I’m sorry for hurting you, Fenris. It was terrible being here without you anyway; I’ve learned my lesson.” Hawke laughed lightly and leaned in for another kiss, which Fenris gladly returned.

“I hate that I can’t stay mad at you.”

“I’m sorry for that too.”

“No, you’re not”

“No, I’m not.” 

Hawke gave him a charming yet impish grin that Fenris couldn’t help but smirk and shake his head at. Reluctantly they parted and went back to their various preparations, leaving Fenris to muse to himself. Hawke’s impassioned speech had left a very warm feeling in his chest that he quite enjoyed.

____

Fenris and Hawke met quite a mish-mash of people at the stables. There was a collection of Inquisition soldiers present, already saddling horses and seeming much better prepared than the rest of the group. Their uniforms, while matching that of the other soldiers Fenris had observed at the keep, had just a little more flare to them, and he assumed Cullen had chosen from of his more senior officers to head out with him first. Cullen himself was also present, already seated on his horse and looking down at the rabble in front of him with a frown of annoyance.

Varric was amongst the disorderly group; he hadn’t made any attempt to mount a horse yet and was standing with ‘Bianca’ rested on his shoulder, talking to a female warrior with short dark hair. She had a sword and shield strapped to her back and seemed irritated by the dwarf’s chatter as she saddled her own horse; Fenris decided he liked her immediately. There was a dark-skinned woman in mage robes also present, complaining down her nose about having to ride at all. A blonde, female elf with a bow strapped to her back stood beside the woman, attempting to provoke her further by describing the way horses shit sprayed up as it hit the ground. The muscled man Fenris had seen chopping wood when he’d first arrived at Skyhold was already sitting on his horse, waiting quietly and watching the female warrior saddle her own, he also had a sword and shield in place on his back. The only other person present was a shy looking boy with an oversized hat and dagger’s strapped to his back. He had moved to interrupt Varric’s harassment of the female warrior, and Fenris caught Varric calling him “Kid” a lot. 

While Fenris was quietly brooding over the fact that he would be stuck traveling with these people for the next few days, Hawke emerged from the stables leading two horses behind him. The horses all looked very similar; dark brown in colour with black mane and tails. There was nothing unique about the animals, but they looked well kept and alert. Hawke handed the reins of one to Fenris, and he gave the horse an absent rub on the nose.

“Who are all these people?”

“I don’t know any of them well. I have only really fought alongside the Inquisitor’s smaller group who she trusts at her side. None of them are here, so I presume they are the ones traveling with her again. I’m told the rest of this group is amongst the inner circle of the Inquisition.”

“Do we have to travel with them? Can we go on ahead?”

Hawke chuckled and looked down at Fenris with fondness.

“Hate them already?”

Fenris glowered and busied himself with tightening the saddle on his horse. He realised then that he’d only just been reunited with Hawke and they were already about to head out on yet another adventure; another adventure that was full of danger and risks to their lives. He had missed Hawke while they’d been separated, and it had given him a taste of what it might be like to have to live without him one day. He hadn’t enjoyed that at all. But still, as bad as those few months had been, the hope of finding him again had kept him going. How would it feel if that hope didn’t exist at all? He paused with his hands still on the horse’s saddle straps and thought about that for a moment; life without Hawke was hard to imagine. He didn’t want to imagine it at all. Fenris suddenly reached out his hand and touched Hawke’s shoulder, interrupting his efforts with his own horse’s saddle. 

“Hawke…”

Hawke glanced over at the elf distractedly, pausing in his task. On seeing the serious look in Fenris’ eyes he immediately straighten up and turned to give him his full attention.

“What’s wrong?” The concern was clear in his tone. 

“Nothing… I just wanted to say…” Fenris paused, never having found it easy to express his feelings at the best of times, even to Hawke. But before heading into the unknown, yet again, seemed as good a time as any to make it clear how he felt about the person he loved. He stepped closer to Hawke to allow his voice to lower yet still be heard; he hated public affirmations of affection. He fixed his eyes to Hawke’s as he continued, “I have missed you. I have missed you a great deal. I would like nothing more than to spend forever at your side, Hawke. And…” He paused again, starting to feel more foolish with each word, but Hawke continued to watch him with rapt attention, a smile touching his lips and his eyes as he listened. “And, I am very much in love with you. I just… wanted to say that. I know you assume as much, but I wanted to tell you. I am sorry it has taken me so long.”

Hawke continued to smile at him in silence, his eyes never leaving Fenris’. The mage took a moment to let his sincere words sink in before speaking. 

“I know, but I appreciate you finally telling me. It’s so nice-… no, not nice,” He cut himself off and shook his head, a grin touching his lips as he corrected himself. “Sorry, and without sounding too sappy, but; it’s music to my ears to hear you say that, Fenris. Please don’t be too shy to remind me more often.”

As expected, Fenris screwed up his nose a little at Hawke’s choice of words.

“Maybe every few years… It’s taken me that long for the first-” His response was suddenly interrupted as the boy with the large hat was suddenly next to them; physically closer than Fenris was comfortable with. He stumbled back a step in alarm, and then regained his composure by sneering at the intruder. Hawke, on the other hand, seemed far less surprised by his sudden appearance, and his expression immediately changed into one of knowing amusement. 

“Too much feeling, too much hurt. Disguise it. Anger hides the hurt. He wants to fit, to matter, to belong. But shouldn’t trust a mage. In the dark the lock turns. Footsteps. “Pet” he calls him. Mages use, they hurt, they betray. And they like it. But he loves anyway. Scared. Afraid he is wrong, afraid to hope. He will leave soon, but red is all he sees.” The boy paused in his cryptic monologue, eyes down-cast as he stood beside the pair. His attention was directed at Fenris, who was staring wide-eyed at the boy and dumb-struck at what was happening. “You aren’t wrong,” the boy added, “You matter.” And with that the boy turned and returned to Varric, who had watched the whole scene unfold from a few yards away.

Fenris stared at the boy’s back as he walked away, unsure of what had just happened. Had the boy read his mind? Had he spoken some of his inner-most thoughts aloud for others to hear; for Hawke to hear?! Fenris could feel an embarrassed flush spreading over his face, which quickly turned to rage. His eyes immediately snapped back to Hawke’s, who hadn’t stopped watching Fenris throughout the torturous ordeal. His former amused expression, however, had now completely left his face, and the expression that took its place was unreadable. Perhaps something mixed between concern, sympathy, or maybe… hurt? Hawke tentatively began reaching a hand out toward Fenris, but he turned away angrily towards his horse, brushing Hawke’s attempt at comfort aside with his shoulder. 

“Fenris…” Hawke’s voice was hesitant, he knew Fenris’ moods well enough to know this was a time to tread lightly. “That’s just Cole, he seems to do that to everyone, whether you want him to or not. I’ve actually seen him help a few people that way…”

“Help?! By announcing private thoughts to onlookers? Fuck off, Hawke…” Fenris mounted his horse; having hastily finished strapping his saddle on, and kicked it hard into a canter out the gates, leaving Hawke to stare after him. He felt humiliated, he felt betrayed somehow, even though he didn’t know this ‘Cole’ at all. His private thoughts and feelings about personal matters had been shared with people he hadn’t yet confided in. As cryptic as they had been, any logical person could have made assumptions about what they meant. He immediately hated the boy. He kicked his horse on further to ride over the bridge, out of Skyhold, and onto the path he knew they would be taking. He wanted to turn the opposite way, but he’d learned enough to know that fleeing wasn’t the answer to anything. 

Once he was a good distance from Skyhold and the embarrassment he’d left there, he allowed his horse to slow to a trot, trying to allow it to settle in for the long journey. Right now, he wished to be alone with his thoughts. How had Cole known those thoughts? He had not told anyone about how he felt about his past; about what had occurred during his time with Danarius. He hadn’t even told Hawke. Would Hawke guess at what had occurred from those cryptic words? Had he already guessed from how uncomfortable and tense Fenris had been on their first few nights together? He groaned to himself as he rode along in silence, the only sound coming from the horse’s hooves on the snow covered dirt road. He dreaded the inevitable conversation Hawke would try to start with him. 

Hawke; he already had a pang of guilt at the words he’d spat in his face before riding off. He had done nothing but try to be kind to him after that complete invasion of privacy; he hadn’t deserved Fenris’ anger. Fenris had the urge to turn his horse around and seek Hawke out immediately, but he was too stubborn and felt too foolish to do so.

___

A few hours of riding alone passed, when he eventually caught wind of the faint sound of hooves behind him. Fenris had slowed his horse to a walk, in a half-hearted attempt to allow the others to catch up with him, but he hadn’t stopped. The sound behind was faint and did not resemble the sound dozens of horses would make, so Fenris glanced behind him and saw only a lone horseman; Hawke. He was making no great effort to catch up to Fenris now, but merely walked his own horse along behind him. From this distance his face was unreadable. Fenris sighed and stopped his horse to allow Hawke to catch up to him more quickly. May as well deal with this now before the others arrived, he thought. 

After a few agonising moments Hawke was once more by his side and the pair walked their horses side-by-side in silence for a time. Fenris snuck a sidewards glance at Hawke, who was staring straight ahead with a pensive look on his face. 

“I am sorry, Hawke. You did not deserve my anger.”

Hawke looked down at Fenris from the corner of his eye, offering no response in return. When he finally did speak, his words were measured and held a tone of empathy.

“You know, you don’t need to hide from me. I’m not leaving, and you matter a great deal to me.”

“You were not meant to hear any of that, Hawke.”

“Why not?”

“Because they were private thoughts, for no one but myself.” He could feel his tone tightening and the anger building slowly once more; he tried hard to fight it down. 

“Why not? If you vented to me once in a while, if you talked about your past more or shared those feelings with me, even your doubts about me, perhaps things would be easier for you. Perhaps I could put your doubts to rest?”

“I do not wish to talk about this.”

“Fenris…” Hawke sighed heavily and turned back to face the road.

“What? You don’t talk to me about your doubts, or… or your ~feelings~” He all but spat the word out as if it were dirty, “Why should I?”

“I don’t talk about my doubts about you because I don’t have any! I love you, Fenris, I’ve always been open about that. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.” Hawke’s voice betrayed his feelings, as always, his words sounding almost desperate. His eyes moved from watching the road ahead to glancing at Fenris as he spoke. Fenris on the other hand, stared straight ahead. “I told you that I regret leaving you, but I felt like it was the best option at the time. I can see now that I was wrong. When things got bad here and I felt like I might not make it out to see you again, I hated that you weren’t there with me and that it was my entire fault. You ~matter~ to me, Fenris, more than anything! And while I want nothing more than to keep you safe, I also want nothing more than to have you by my side at all times. It’s a tough line to walk with how dangerous our lives have become.” Hawke took a moment to look at Fenris seriously, who still refused to meet his gaze. “I don’t talk to you about these feelings often because I feel like it makes you uncomfortable; like right now. I would like nothing more than to be able to bare my soul to you, and to have you do the same. And I’m so sorry for your past and what Danarius did to you, and made you do for him. But I am ~not~ him. Seeing you harmed in any way hurts me, I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you. Please realise that! I have given you no reason to doubt me, nor not to trust me, have I?” The last, Hawke said with a touch of doubt, glancing at Fenris hopefully and awaiting his response. When the elf still said nothing and continued to stare ahead, Hawke turned his attention back to the road ahead, “I’m sorry for how sentimental that all sounded…” He mumbled under his breath, sounding a little embarrassed after his heartfelt speech.

“No, Hawke, do not apologise for being honest.” Fenris finally turned his full attention to Hawke, even shifting his body towards him. “What I said to you earlier, I have never had the courage to say to anyone before. In fact, I have never even wished to say such things to anyone before I met you. Cole is right, everything he said was… correct. You know I find it very hard to trust; mages especially. Being around you, being ~with~ you has been a struggle for me; I am not proud to admit it. But… I am here anyway. You are right, you have given me no reason not to trust you, and while it feels wrong, I do… I trust you.” It was difficult for him to admit to it, to admit to that vulnerability, even with Hawke. “I hope that you realise how difficult it is for me to say these things, even to you, Hawke. How difficult it is for me to trust you with this, and then to also admit that I do. I hope that, with time, it will no longer feel wrong. Please be patient with me. And please! Do not apologise for my past. It has nothing to do with you, it is not your fault, and I would like us to speak of it less. Again, I apologise for my anger towards you earlier, it was misdirected… Cole was right, it hides a lot.” Fenris turned his attention back to the road as soon as he’d said his piece, feeling exposed and anxious about how Hawke would react to his honesty. He was truly out of his comfort zone here. 

After a time of riding in silence, Fenris didn’t notice Hawke move, but he felt the mage’s hand suddenly rest on the back of his neck, and he spoke in a serious tone.

“Would you like me to kill Cole for you?”

Fenris snorted, and couldn’t help but smile at the unexpected offer.

“No… Please allow me the pleasure.”

Hawke laughed and Fenris couldn’t help but offer him a sideways smirk. He had to give it to Hawke; he always knew how to lighten the mood. 

“Seriously though, I’m very patient, Fenris. You learn to be when you keep the company I do.” Hawke grinned, but his voice became more serious. “Take all the time you need. Tell me though; do you want me to share my thoughts with you more often?”

“Yes, of course. But only as long as you’re prepared for my awkward attempts to console you.”

Hawke smiled at the elf’s response, seeming rather pleased.

“Very well, consider me prepared.”

___

They rode in silence after that, Fenris feeling as though a load had been lifted from his shoulders. He was a little baffled by the feeling, and wondered if this whole ‘sharing’ business really was as beneficial as so many people seemed to think. He wasn’t about to make it a habit though, at least not with anyone but Hawke. 

“Hawke…?”

“Yes?”

“The guard at the gate when I arrived, he called you Master Markus.” Fenris glanced sideways at Hawke with an amused quirk to his lip, “Why?”

“… You didn’t seriously forget that that’s my name?”

“Of course not!” Fenris snorted, “But no one calls you that! Why did he?”

“I suppose because that’s my name and he doesn’t know me well enough to know that most use my surname… Why do you ask, ~Master Fenris~?” Hawke smirked.

“Do you prefer people to use your surname, or is that just how it turned out?”

“I suppose that’s just how it turned out. Where is all this coming from?”

Fenris shrugged, thoughtful for a moment. 

“What did your family use?” 

Fenris cringed a little, not really having meant to bring up the touchy subject; he obviously hadn’t given his words enough thought, as usual. Hawke had lost his whole family a few years back. While Fenris had never met his sister, who had died before he’d met Hawke, he had briefly known his mother and brother, before they too had been taken from Hawke in various horrible ways. Fenris had attempted to comfort Hawke during those times, but had realised quickly how bad he was at comforting anyone through something like that, and Hawke had not spoken of them since. Fenris was afraid he might have brought up the wrong topic.

“In the end they’d started calling me Hawke too... I suppose they heard my friends calling me that. But before Kirkwall, it was always Markus.” Hawke fell silent, slipping into memories of his past. He didn’t show any marked change in mood, though he offered no further comment either. 

“I’m sorry; I did not wish to bring up a painful topic.”

“I don’t mind. It would be more painful if everyone avoided the topic as if they never existed, don’t you think?” Hawke glanced back at Fenris.

“I suppose so.”

They rode on in silence, the sound of their horses’ hooves sloshing through the ankle deep snow. The mid-morning sun was warming the ground enough finally that the snow was melting ever so slightly, but it remained covering their path. No sign of the others was evident behind them, and the pair enjoyed their private journey. Fenris had missed his time alone with Hawke, they had usually travelled in a small group of friends; but this was how Fenris preferred it. He looked over at the mage, who appeared to be off in his own world of private thought. After a moment, Hawke turned to Fenris.

“In truth, I think I miss hearing that name. It feels as though it’s lost in the past, and is no longer a part of me. It feels like another lifetime now.”

“Like Leto…”

“Perhaps, but I miss a lot about that lifetime, whereas you would rather forget.”

“That is true.” Fenris pondered for a moment, before cocking his head at Hawke, “Would you like me to call you Markus?”

Hawke glanced at Fenris briefly, before turning back to the road to spend a silence moment in thought. Eventually he turned his gaze back to the elf with an endearing smile.

“Would you though?”

“If it’s what you want, of course.”

“I think it is, actually.”

“Then I will.” Fenris returned his smile. “In private anyway,” he added, in afterthought.

“Best to avoid the gossip it would otherwise incite, yes.” Hawke laughed.

“Should I call you ‘Master Markus’ too?”

“Ha! I like the sound of that. Save that one for late at night though.” Hawke leaned closer to Fenris and winked at him suggestively, an attractive and playful grin on his lips.

“Noted.” Fenris felt a little boyish flutter in his stomach at Hawke’s charming display; he was far too lovable for his own good.


	5. Glad He Stayed

The rest of the group caught up with Fenris and Hawke by the time they’d stopped to make camp for the first night. By that time everyone had mostly forgotten about Fenris’ sudden, premature departure, for which Fenris was glad. The only one who deemed it appropriate to mention was Varric, who confronted him privately when the pair had left camp to collect water from an icy stream nearby. Varric broached the subject as casually as possible.

“Doing ok, Broody?”

Fenris knew exactly what Varric was referring to, but decided he’d feign ignorance instead, whilst busying himself with catching water in a wooden pale.

“Sitting in a saddle for this long is new; I’m not looking forward to walking bow-legged in a few days.”

“I thought you’d be used to that by now?…” Varric gave Fenris a side long look and sniggered.

“I haven’t ridden a horse in-…” Fenris caught the expression on Varric’s face and cut himself off with a sneer at the dwarf, though he couldn’t help but laugh a little despite himself. He had to admit, he was happy that so few of his acquaintances had a problem with his pairing with Hawke; not that he would have cared, but it was certainly easier this way.

“Seriously though, about Cole…”

“Varric…” Fenris signed in an exhausted fashion; he wasn’t interested in this discussion right now. He turned back to the creek, picking up an empty pale.

“Just shut up and let me finish, Broody. Cole is a strange kid; in fact, Solas believes he’s a spirit of compassion, though I have my doubts about that. Either way, he seems to be able to read people really well. He didn’t mean any harm earlier. And for the record, no one but Hawke heard what he said, including me.”

Fenris offered no further comment on the subject, though he was glad to hear that Hawke alone had been audience to his private thoughts. He held out two water-filled buckets to Varric pointedly, before heading back to the campsite with two of his own.

“Right. Well, thanks for this chat, Broody, glad I could help you.” Varric huffed at Fenris’ back as he followed along behind, and Fenris grunted in response.

The conversation had only left Fenris more curious than before and he wasn’t sure now if he wanted to approach Cole to find out more about him, or if he wanted to stir clear of him completely. Most of the time he had no idea where Cole even was though, so he decided that made the situation much simpler and tried to put it out of his mind.

___

The next day, Fenris awoke in the early hours of the morning; the soft pre-dawn glow barely managing to light the inside of his tent. He could only barely make out a few simple shapes in the dim light, and could hear the birds just beginning their morning calls. He pulled the covers over his shoulder a little more as he lay still, listening for the familiar sound of Hawke’s breathing. When he heard nothing, he rolled over to check on the mage, but found his bedroll empty. Fenris reached a hand out to the place Hawke had been sleeping and found it cold to touch; he’d been up for a while then. Fenris pushed his covers aside and rose, looking around the tent some more, and noticed that Hawke’s staff was also gone. 

Having been exhausted from a full day of riding, they had both fallen into their bedrolls fully clothed and immediately slept last night, so this morning there was no need to dress. Fenris pushed the tent flaps aside and exited the tent, stretching. The air outside was decidedly more cold, and he welcomed the crisp chill on his skin. No one else stirred in the camp, even the soldier posted as a ‘look-out’ had dozed off, propped up against a log a short distance away. Fenris scowled at him, but left him to sleep all the same; no point in him keeping look-out now that Fenris was awake.

Fenris squinted around the campsite in search of Hawke, but saw nothing. He grabbed his greatsword from just inside the tent opening and rested it on his shoulder as he set out towards the nearby stream. He figured that was the only place worth venturing to at this hour, so he may as well start there. He walked slowly in the freshly fallen snow, attempting to be quiet so as not to wake the rest of the camp; they’d be leaving early enough as it was, best for them to sleep while they could.

As Fenris ventured out of the camp, the fresh set of footprints leading into the forest and towards the stream, told Fenris his suspicions about Hawke’s whereabouts were correct. As Fenris reached the stream he found a lonely figure seated on a log at the water’s edge. The stream was mostly frozen over this morning, though there were patches of very thin ice and some areas where the ice had broken away completely, revealing the slow moving water beneath. Hawke sat with his back to Fenris, his staff propped up against the log beside him and the faintest blue glow surrounded him. Fenris could see that his hands were busy with something in front of him; magic he presumed, though he wasn’t sure why. He walked towards Hawke slowly, trying not to startle him, but also not hiding the sound of his footsteps in the fresh snow. When Fenris was by Hawke’s shoulder, he could see that the soft blue glow was coming from within Hawke’s cupped hands, his fingers moving deftly around an orb of light. When his fingers stopped the blue light instantly winked out, leaving behind a small figure of ice. Hawke opened his hands and allowed the object to drop at his feet before turning to look up at Fenris. 

“Good morning, love.”

Fenris smiled at Hawke’s choice of greeting; he was beginning to like this ‘open’ business already. He slipped in beside Hawke on the log, leaving his sword beside the mage staff. Leaning an elbow on Hawke’s thigh as he looked between the mage’s legs curiously, to where Hawke had let the mysterious object fall. There, at Hawke’s feet, was a small collection of various ice figurines, still holding their form in the cool morning air. Fenris could make out at least one attempt at a humanoid figure, a flower of sorts, some basic geometrical shapes and some oddly shaped animals. Fenris looked back up at Hawke with a quizzical look. 

“What are you doing?”

“Making ice sculptures,” he spoke as if it was the most normal thing to be doing before dawn by a freezing cold stream.

“Alright, but why?” Fenris raised an amused eyebrow at him.

Hawke bent down and scooped up the humanoid figure, handing it to Fenris. 

“I made one of you.” Fenris peered at the figure and noticed a pair of pointed ears. It was really the only feature that might distinguish the figure as Fenris; he couldn’t help but laugh.

“I can see the resemblance. You’re an artist, truly.”

Hawke grinned at him, “Thank you. I used to do this with Bethany when she was little and first started to show signs of a magical talent. Since I was older and already knew a little, we did this to try to teach her control. She would have to levitate objects, in this case, water; freeze it, and then eventually shape it.” 

As Hawke spoke he demonstrated what he meant, his hands motioning towards a hole in the ice covered stream. A globe of water rose from the stream, surrounded by a faint blue glow, and by the time the water had reached them it was transformed into a round icy sphere. Fenris watched on, unable to resist feeling a little fascinated by the abilities he would never possess himself. Hawke had rarely used magic outside of battle; he was always very restrained when it came to magic use, which appealed to Fenris a great deal. While this may be a frivolous use of his skill, he couldn’t help but marvel at the simple beauty of it. As the ice ball floated into Hawke’s hands his fingers began moving and shaping, his skin never actually touching the smooth surface at all. Fenris could see tiny wisps of magic working, as if by their own volition, within Hawke’s cupped hands. After a few minutes the glow subsided once more and Hawke opened his hands to reveal a tiny wine bottle. Fenris couldn’t help but laugh a little as he recognised what it was.

“Shame it is empty.”

“I haven’t mastered the art of turning water into wine… Yet!” Hawke grinned at him.

“I will marry you when you do.”

“I’ll hold you to that!”

Fenris leaned against Hawke’s side and reached up to place a kiss on his cheek, lingering there to breathe against the stubbly skin.

“Thank you for sharing this with me… Markus.” He added Hawke’s name after a pause; it felt awkward on his tongue, intimate somehow, and it came out a clumsily. 

Hawke turned and merely smiled at his effort, leaning in to catch Fenris’ lips and placed his own kiss there. After sharing a brief, yet tender embrace, they sat on the cold log for a time, listening to the water trickle by beneath the ice.

As they silently watched the gloom around them be chased away by the rising sun, the faint slush of snow could he heard, as if some creature was moving amongst the trees across the stream. The pair both turned their heads toward the sound and waited, but the sound disappeared just as quickly. They continued to stare in the direction it had come from for a moment, before Fenris eventually shrugged and opened his mouth to speak.

At that moment two large wolves ran out from the cover of darkness, rushing forward in an aggressive display, teeth bared. The sudden intrusion on the silence they had just been enjoying was startling and Hawke let out a curse. Without thinking, Fenris immediately reached across Hawke for his sword, preparing to rush back at the wolves, but Hawke pushed him back with one hand. In the same motion, and still seated, Hawke lifted his other hand towards the wolves. With a quick incantation, two bright but narrow jets of flame shot from his hand to crash into the snow in front of each of the wolves. The snow sprayed up in a shower of hissing steam as the fire melted it in an instant. The wolves yelped in alarm, immediately trying to call off their attack as they skidded to a halt, one slipping on the icy ground and sliding towards them, half falling into the stream. Startled from the sudden attack, the other quickly turned tail and disappeared into the cover of the forest once more, whilst its fallen companion flailed in the icy water for a moment trying to get its footing on the bank. Once it had clawed its way out, it too took off back into the forest, not brave enough to take on the pair alone. 

Through all this, Hawke and Fenris both stared at the scene unfolding in front of them, their eyes following the wolves as they fled back into the forest. Once they found themselves alone again, each took a moment to recover from the sudden and vicious intrusion. 

Hawke lowered both his hands after a moment, and turned to Fenris, who was still tensed for battle beside him.

“Well…” The mage couldn’t help but break into laughter, “Wasn’t that exciting?”

“You stopped me?” Fenris tried to relax and took a seat next to Hawke once more, his question inquiring rather than accusatory. 

“Would you rather two corpses at your feet right now?”

“Well…. No.”

“There is often an alternative to death, Fenris.”

“Fair enough.” He grunted in response; put out by Hawke too often being right. “You can deal with them when they return with their whole pack then.”

“Deal!” Hawke grinned at him, amused at his annoyance, “Come here… What were you about to say?” Hawke hooked an arm around his waist, trying to return the mood to its former peaceful state.

“Hmm? Uh… I don’t recall now.” Fenris frowned in concentration, “Oh right, tell me about coming to Skyhold?”

Hawke glanced down at Fenris from the corner of his eye for a second, before his gaze settled back on the, once more, calm scene before them.

“Hmm… Alright, well,” Hawke relaxed onto the log once more, his arm remaining loosely in place around Fenris’ waist. “Varric sent me word about the problems they were having; about the Inquisitor and her mark, about Corypheus’ return, about the explosion at the conclave, and about the breach that spews demons. It almost sounded like one of his ridiculous tales, you know?” Fenris nodded, letting Hawke speak without interruption. He rested his head on the mage’s shoulder as he listened, and Hawke idly slipped his hand in to rest on the elf’s knee. “He suggested that maybe I’d join him, since we had both fought Corypheus before and should finish the job. And well…. He did suggest you come with me.” Hawke tensed a little, obviously not wanting to bring up that topic with Fenris again. When Fenris made no comment, he gave the elf’s knee a gentle squeeze before continuing. He told Fenris about a great many things, from contacting Stroud, his Warden contact, to discovering that the Grey Wardens were summoning demons in a farfetched effort to stop the blights. Of course, two insane mages named Erimond and Clarel seemed to be behind all of that, something that didn’t surprise Fenris at all, and put Hawke on the defensive for a time during his story telling. Apparently Clarel had had a change of heart at the last minute and turned on Erimond; too little too late, Fenris thought. And that had all somehow resulted in the Inquisitor having to use her mark to save them all from falling to their deaths; this really was starting to sound a lot like one of Varric’s far-fetched tales. 

“And that’s how we ended up in the fade…”

“I’m not sure I’m sad I missed all this now.”

“You shouldn’t be; the fade wasn’t fun at all.” Hawke’s voice took on a grim tone as he drifted off, his expression becoming distant, as though his mind was back reliving those seemingly bad memories. It was the expression Fenris had often seen when Hawke’s family’s deaths were mentioned, and he leaned in a little closer to offer the mage some solace.

“Do not feel that you need to continue,” he offered quietly.

“Oh, it’s ok… I just haven’t really spoken of what happened there before. A lot happened; we left Stroud behind. I’m still not sure that was the right decision; it was made in haste.” Hawke looked down at his hands in shame, “I feel as though I should have done more to ensure everyone got out alive.”

“You cannot save everyone, Markus.”

“No, I’ve learned that all too well, haven’t I?” His voice became bitter and he lifted his eyes to stare out at the ever-brightening forest before them. “We left him there to distract a nightmare demon, while we all fled through a rift to safely. It feels cowardly.”

“Would you have slain the demon if you’d stayed?”

“Unlikely.”

“Then what is the use of everyone staying and dying for nothing?”

“Perhaps if we’d stayed a little longer, weakened it maybe, we might have all been able to escape.”

“Perhaps, or perhaps someone else might have died trying. There are many possibilities, Markus, you cannot know that it would have been better another way.”

Hawke was quiet once more, considering Fenris’ words. He spared a glance at the elf, who had lifted his head to study the mage’s expression, a rare look of empathy on his face. Meeting Fenris’ eyes for the first time during his recollection, he let out a heavy deflated sigh, and a look of sincerity crossed his face.

“I was glad he stayed, Fenris, so I didn’t have to. I was scared, for so many reasons. I saw so many horrible things in the fade; the nightmare demon’s work, of course. I saw my mother sewn together in pieces; I saw Carver and Bethany as Darkspawn; and you were there too, covered in so much blood. And the things that bastard whispered to me; it was constantly in my head, planting little seeds of doubt. It made me believe I would die there alone, that you would die, or even that you were already dead because of me…” Hawke shook his head, as if trying to shake the memories. “In the end, I volunteered to stay behind; I felt like I had nothing left to live for…”

“You volunteered?” Fenris blinked at him incredulously, not willing to believe that he would have freely thrown his life away.

“I wasn’t thinking straight, Fenris. But I only realised after we were out. That’s when I had this overwhelming feeling of relief that it was him and not me that stayed behind.” He cast his eyes to Fenris once more, a pained look on his face. “Does that make me a terrible person?”

Fenris replied without hesitation.

“No, I think it makes you normal. I am positive most people feel that way about death; they just don’t want to admit it. You are very honest, a quality I hope you never lose.” Fenris drew the brooding mage down to place a kiss on his stubbly cheek. “Don’t ever change, Markus.”

Hawke turned toward Fenris and reached an arm around him, pulling him ever closer to kiss his lips in gratitude. Taking comfort in the elf’s acceptance of his flaws, Hawke started to deepen the kiss, his hand reaching up to cup the elf’s cheek, when they suddenly heard footsteps behind them.

“I see you two are already awake!”

Fenris reluctantly broke free from Hawke’s embrace, to glare over his shoulder at the intruder. 

“Varric. I see you’re starting to make a habit of interruptions.”

“Good morning, Broody. Better now than in a few minutes time, don’t you think? I certainly have no desire to see your glowing arse!”

Fenris growled under his breath, but Hawke merely grinned at him. 

“Are you sure, Varric? It’s a pretty fine arse.” Hawke’s grin widened as he kept his eyes on Fenris, knowing full well the response his observation would incite.

“Hawke!” Fenris turned his glare on Hawke instead, to which Hawke only laughed, holding his hands up innocently. 

“Well, it’s true!”

Fenris fell into his usual silent scowl, turning away from the pair who found far too much joy in goading him.

“Good morning, Hawke!” Varric carried on in a cheerful voice, his grin also growing at Fenris’ expense.

“Good morning, Varric.” Hawke turned to offer Varric a smile, seeming unperturbed by his interruption; sometimes Fenris really wished he’d be more annoyed about these things. 

In the corner of his eye Fenris noticed the quick sweep of Hawke’s foot, as he pushed the remnants of the ice sculptures still in front of him, down into the bank of the stream to be swept away under the ice. He spared a glance at Hawke, who continued to casually talk to Varric; everyone had their secrets, Fenris supposed. 

As Hawke finally stood up, Fenris felt a fleeting squeeze of his knee; a private acknowledgement of what he knew Fenris had witnessed. Fenris smiled to himself; he could certainly get used to sharing himself with Hawke.


	6. Freedom

By the third day the group started to descend from the mountains. The snow became a lot sparser and the need for fur-lined clothing was past. It was much more pleasant to travel without the bitter cold constantly on his face, and Fenris had been in better spirits as a result. The fourth day saw them well on the way to leaving the mountains entirely, their path leading into a much more lush and colourful area of the world that the others referred to as The Emerald Graves. It was entering this region that Fenris first started seeing an abundance of animal and plant life, and while he’d found the snow a delight to look upon, he was glad to finally see the end of it. The scenery here changed more frequently as they rode; green fields changed to tangled forest, and then to rocky hillside. It was much more appealing to the senses.

For most of the journey Fenris avoided the other travellers as much as he could. Varric, of course, he was used to and tolerated well. He appreciated how much Hawke seemed to enjoy his company, and so he in turn liked having the dwarf around, despite his routine protests. The blonde elf, Sera, and the dark-skinned mage, Vivienne, he avoided like the plague; the pair of them annoyed him to no end. The bickering between the two had been amusing for a time, but he’d grown tired of it after the second day. Vivienne had attempted, on more than one occasion, to engage him in conversation about the nature of his tattoos. To her credit, she was good at taking the hint that he was disinterested in offering her an explanation, when he immediately changed the subject. Still, she was snotty, and he didn’t care for snotty at all. Sera, on the other hand, was ridiculous and never seemed to know when to just shut up. Half of the nonsense that dribbled from her mouth confused Fenris to no end, which only infuriated him further when he felt foolish for not being able to follow. 

He had decided that the warriors, Blackwall and Cassandra, were amongst the more tolerable of the bunch, though they kept to themselves more often than not; also a quality he appreciated. On one occasion Blackwall had approached him and begun idle conversation about his greatsword, commenting about his skills when they’d encountered a few stray bandits hiding out in the mountains. His complements and attention to battle detail had impressed Fenris and he’d decided he didn’t mind him at all. Given that he seemed to keep close company with Cassandra, he supposed the pair weren’t all that bad. 

The Inquisition soldiers and the few mage recruits that travelled with them mostly mingled amongst themselves. They offered polite greetings and idle conversation to everyone, and seemed an approachable and friendly lot, though it was clear there were distinct social groups established. Commander Cullen appeared to be the only one present who could easily drift amongst all groups. He seemed well liked and respected for the most part, and had certainly demonstrated his skill in battle along the way.

___

Fenris had kept a close eye out for Cole since their first encounter. He’d only managed to spy the boy twice since then, and that was now 6 days ago. His elusiveness made Fenris even more curious and he eventually began an active search for the boy, being exceedingly more frustrated when it proved useless. He had asked Hawke about Cole on more than one occasion, but Hawke seemed to know as little about him as Fenris. 

It was on this sixth day that Cole did finally appear again, as if he’d been there all along. Fenris spotted him across the camp at dusk talking quietly to Sera, who was staring at Cole with a repulsed look on her face. Amidst the few who were socialising around the camp fire, the elf had a sudden outburst; not unusual, Fenris had come to realise.

“Urrrhg! I told you to stay away from me, right?! Arrows! I’m getting my arrows now!” 

She stalked away from Cole, presumably looking for the arrows, but instead sat on a log on the other side of the fire, glaring daggers at the boy. While her arrows sat untouched by her tent, in their usual spot, a female Inquisition soldier approached Sera. After a whispered conversation, the pair disappeared into the surrounding trees and Fenris noticed how eagerly the elf had left the camp, and more importantly, Cole behind. 

Cole seemed to receive a lot of angry outbursts, which didn’t really surprise Fenris if all his conversations consisted of laying bare the personal thoughts of those around him. Having been watching this scene unfold from his own log in front of his tent, Fenris pushed up quickly and took the opportunity to intercept Cole as he started to retreat to wherever he hides. 

“Cole?”

“Fenris?” Cole stopped when he was addressed and turned to face Fenris, keeping his eyes lower than the brim of his hat, as usual. Fenris opened his mouth to speak, but realised he actually had no idea what he wanted to say to Cole. He stood awkwardly in front of the boy in silence, rescued finally when Cole voiced Fenris’ questions himself.

“Seer. Abomination. What is he? He wears a hat at night. Why? So many questions. Should I kill him; is he a threat? What ~is~ he? He’s reading my mind. Afraid. Private should stay private.”

“…. Uhm.” Fenris cast a glance back into the camp, already regretting his decision to try to speak with this oddity in the presence of others. A few people mingling around the campfire, including Hawke, had already turned their attention to them now.

“Can we please speak in private?” 

“Of course.”

Fenris met Hawke’s eyes, who had paused in a conversation with Cassandra, to give him a concerned look as he noticed who Fenris had sought out to speak with this evening. Fenris gave him an innocent shrug and lead Cole out of the campground. He wondered if Hawke would follow, in case he needed to stop Fenris from killing the boy if this conversation ended badly; maybe he should.

“You won’t kill me.”

“That’s very disconcerting, please stop.”

“You feel loudly.”

“I was feeling… quietly, to myself. How do you do that?”

“Do what?” 

The narrow, natural path they took out of the campground lead them to a small clearing in the dense brush. In the increasing darkness, only the shapes of trees nearby were visible against the moonlit sky, leaving the rest of their surroundings almost completely black. The moonlight managed to cast a natural spotlight on the pair, however, so they could see each other well enough. Fenris stopped a short distance from Cole, preferring that space when it came to most people, especially one he still wasn’t sure about.

“I will not hurt you, unless you ask.” Cole offered, though he seemed to understand the distance Fenris created.

“I am not afraid of you hurting me.”

“No; you hurt yourself a lot.”

Fenris let out an irritated growl; he hated how accurate the boy’s statements were. Most of what he said Fenris couldn’t even admit to himself, let alone speak them aloud.

“Are you reading my mind again?!”

“No. You feel loudly.”

“What are you?”

“Solas said I am a spirit of compassion.”

“You do not know for sure?”

“I think he is right.”

“Then you stole a boy’s body to possess?” Fenris glared at him, feeling his fists beginning to clench; he knew the consequences of possession all too well. 

“No.”

Fenris continued to glare at him in silence, unsure what to think about his denial. He was a strange boy, simple somehow, yet far too insightful at the same time. Fenris wasn’t sure what he had wanted to gain from approaching Cole; to discover what he was? How he could know his inner most thoughts? To make him stop? 

They stood in silence for a time, Cole observing Fenris’ feet, while the elf stared at the boy’s hat.

“Well… Please stop listening to my thoughts. In fact, please just stay away from me completely. Do not speak of my feelings aloud again.”

“Why do they scare you?”

“They do not scare me!” He could feel his voice rising, and knew he was lying.

“They are your own feelings. I can make you forget, if you like? Solas says I should ask first. Do you want to forget?”

Fenris fell silent and stared at the boy. Forget his past? Was that even possible? Could this strange boy, or spirit, actually do that? Fenris wondered if he truly was a spirit of compassion; he supposed it would make sense, considering his seemingly innocent admits to help those around him, as unhelpful as they’d been so far. It was a tempting offer; to forget everything from his past that plagued him now. Danarius would be gone from his memories, along with the years of torture and abuse. No more nightmares about the humiliating things he’d been forced to do. He could finally forget his sister’s betrayal, and how he had ended her life in anger. Hadriana would be gone as if she’d never existed, and with her, the taunting he’d endured. The ill treatment forced on him at the hands of mages, that he still lived though in his mind every day, could finally end. He would truly no longer be a slave; he would have a new slate, one where doubts wouldn’t constantly plague his relationship with Hawke. They would be happier together.

He stood in silence, just looking at Cole with a pensive expression as he considered the past he might finally be free from.

“Freedom from hurt.” 

Cole confirmed with a nod, as if he’d been privy to everything Fenris had felt in that moment. He lifted his hand slowly and stepped toward Fenris, his approach was slow but confident and Fenris caught a glimpse of his eyes for the first time; they were full of compassion. Fenris took a step back, however, feelings of uncertainty washing over him, despite how tempting the boy’s offer seemed. 

“NO!” 

Fenris hadn’t heard Hawke’s approach; he didn’t know how long the mage had been there, or how much he’d heard. Hawke was suddenly in front of him, brushing Cole’s extended arm aside. He pushed the boy back with a gentle shove, his voice sounding as though he was chastising a child.

“No, Cole.”

Hawke turned to Fenris then and physically moved him aside by the shoulders, as if he were removing him from harm.

“Fenris…” 

Hawke’s voice sounded concerned, and incredulous at what he’d just witnessed, his eyes probed that of his lover’s as he sought some sort of explanation. Fenris turned his eyes from Hawke’s, feeling ashamed under their scrutiny. He realised then that he wasn’t actually sure if he would have let Cole do what he had offered.

“He wants to help the hurt too.”

“Ok, thanks Cole… I can take it from here.” 

Hawke didn’t turn back to Cole when he spoke, but kept his eyes on Fenris and his hands still rested on the elf’s shoulders. Fenris saw Cole wander off into the dark as if nothing much had happened, leaving Fenris and Hawke alone in the moonlight.

Fenris finally turned to meet Hawke’s eyes, finding them hard to gage in the dim light. He felt a little bewildered at all that had just occurred in such a short time frame, and at how close he’d been to making a lasting, life-changing decision. He had been offered something he never thought possible; a new life, perhaps; a life without the painful memories that forever haunted him now. Would he have taken that opportunity? He felt a tinge of resentment toward Hawke for interrupting, and that he would probably never know now.

“Fenris…” Hawke’s brow farrowed in a concerned and stricken expression; he looked hurt somehow, and it confused Fenris more than ever. “You wouldn’t seriously have let him do that, would you?”

“In truth, I… don’t know; it was a tempting offer. Painful memories erased, Hawke... Markus. Would you not be tempted by the opportunity to start anew?”

“Not at all!” He sounded a little dumbfounded that Fenris could have even considered it. “Fenris, life isn’t without pain. No one’s is. Sure, people have varying degrees of shittiness in their lives, and you certainly have the upper limit of that-” Fenris snorted.

“Thank you for reducing my past to ‘shitty’-”

“-but it makes you you, Fenris!” Hawke ignored his interruption. “Without your past, including the bad memories, you wouldn’t be the same person you are now. Your past has given you the courage, strength and wisdom you have today; embrace it, stop letting them mar your existence, love. Look how far you’ve come already; you’ve learned to trust again, even if only a few, despite risks you are well aware of. You are more cautious and suspicious than anyone I know, which is not always a bad thing; you have alerted me to dangers that I hadn’t even considered. Despite your mistrust for mages, you have let me in; a mage.” Hawke slipped his right hand down to rest over Fenris’ heart in a sentimental gesture, his voice growing softer with each heartfelt word. Fenris placed his hand over Hawke’s in turn, feeling touched at how strongly the mage felt, and how openly he expressed it. “You are also the most loyal person I have ever met, despite being betrayed and used your whole life. You don’t think that your past has played a role in all that? Those experiences you’ve endured have shaped you into the man you are today, the man I love, Fenris. And although you really ~suck~ at telling me, I know you love me more than anything too. You’re one of the only people that I can fully trust at my side. I love you, Fenris, please don’t ever consider doing something like that. Or at least, ~please~ come to me first if you’re tempted, so we can talk about it. I at least want the chance to try to talk you out of it. Or if that fails, I want the chance to grudgingly support your decision.”

“You would truly support my decision if you didn’t agree with it?”

“Of course; if it’s what you truly wanted, and you had listened to, and considered, hours of lecturing from me beforehand. If after all that you still wished to go ahead with it, then I would stand by you. You’re not an idiot, Fenris, I trust your judgement. Though I don’t know how I would feel if it changed you…”

Fenris fell silent, looking into Hawke’s eyes after yet another of his heart-felt speeches; they seemed to be becoming a regular occurrence now. He was beginning to see just how much he really meant to the mage; he couldn’t complain about that. 

“I did not realise you would feel so strongly about this. I suppose I had not really considered it much at all; the offer was sudden and unexpected.” 

Hawke’s hands moved to encircle Fenris’ waist, drawing him in close as he spoke softly down to the elf.

“Of course I do.” Hawke fixed his eyes to Fenris’, the mood growing more serious still, “So… You didn’t answer me. Would you have allowed him?” 

Fenris considered the question, before shaking his head.

“Probably not, no. Especially not now that I know your opinion on it. But it was an attractive offer, at the time.”

Hawke’s expression lightened into a smile as he looked down at Fenris, seeming pleased that his trust in the elf’s judgement was not ill-placed after all. 

“Honestly, I would have been very surprised. I mean it, Fenris, I love you just so.” He leaned down to place a soft kiss on the elf’s lips, which was willingly returned.

“The feeling is mutual, Markus… Though you could work on your compliments – ‘You’re not an idiot’” Fenris grinned at the mage teasingly.

“That’s right, Fenris, ignore all my other eloquent, heart-felt words!” Hawke feigned insult, before grinning back at the elf.

“Blowing your own horn again, I see.” Fenris laughed.

“Well, you aren’t offering.” Hawke’s grin grew wider still, and he waggled his brows at Fenris suggestively. 

Fenris smirked at the display; he truly adored the many sides of Hawke he was blessed to see. The elf pressed in closer to Hawke, becoming earnest once more.

“Seriously, Markus… Thank you, for saying what you did. I appreciate your honest words, and that you care so deeply. You make it easy to trust you, for which I am grateful.” Fenris pushed back then and grabbed one of Hawke’s hand, a more playful grin crossing his features, “And now, come for a walk with me and I’ll really show you how that blow that horn of yours.”

A look of surprise crossed Hawke’s face, but the grin quickly returned to his lips as he allowed himself to be dragged off toward a darker, more private nook of the forest.


	7. Not Today

The next day marked their arrival in the Arbor Wilds, a few hours before sunset. The chevaliers Cullen had mentioned had evidently arrived before them, as they encountered little resistance on entering the forest, and the first and main camp was already well underway at being established. There were at least a dozen chevaliers present, who had erected a group of tents surrounding an already burning camp fire. Their smaller personal tents were arranged further out, with more to spare for some newcomers to claim. The newly arrived immediately began setting up their own equipment in camp, and the horses were promptly set out to graze on a grassy area nearby. 

Fenris took a moment to study the area, taking in the sights of the forest around them. Having been free of the snowy mountains for a few days now, the change in scenery had been gradual as they’d slowly picked their way through the vegetation. The Arbor Wilds, like The Emerald Graves, was teaming with life of all kinds. There was an abundance of birds that all sang their songs loudly through the day, though they appeared to also be settling in for a quiet night now. The plants in this area had colours that Fenris hadn’t even realised existed in the natural world; and he had spotted many small furry animals as they fled from the paths the horses had chosen. The size of the trees in the Arbor Wilds was breathtaking; Fenris couldn’t even begin to guess how ancient they were to reach that height and girth. Although they had been warned of the dangers of this area, they had so far not encountered anything out of the ordinary.

“Do you think we’ll see Corypheus here?” Fenris turned to Hawke and helped him set up their own tent.

“Hopefully not; it seems difficult to keep him dead.”

“What do you think he’s planning on using the eluvian for?”

“I’m not sure; perhaps Morrigan could shed more light on that, since she seems to know something about it. I’m not sure when she’ll arrive though.”

Once camp was set up, their horses tended to, and their equipment packed into their tents, Hawke suggested a quick walk of the surrounding area in hopes of finding water and something other than rations to eat. Fenris readily agreed and they slipped out of the camp before anyone else could suggest joining them. 

Once out of sight and earshot of the camp, Fenris stepped in beside Hawke as they walked and slipped his hand into the mage’s. Hawke looked down at him with a surprised expression, but gave his hand a fond squeeze.

“You’re becoming soft.” He said teasingly.

“Shut up, Hawke.”

“And there it goes.” Hawke laughed, but contentedly kept a hold of Fenris’ hand. “I feel dirty. I would really love a bath, let’s hope we find water.”

“Maybe we’ll find clean clothing too.”

“One can hope.”

After a short walk they came across a very shallow stream. The water would barely reach their knees, but it was as clear as Fenris had ever seen, and the temperature was delightfully crisp. Without needing any further invitation, Fenris immediately dropped Hawke’s hand to strip off his blood-soaked armour and sweaty undergarments to wade in. The cool water trickling over his bared skin, while a bit colder than was comfortable, was very welcome after the days they’d just spent walking in heavy, sweaty armour. Fenris crouched to dunk his head under the water before kicking his legs out to float; it wasn’t deep, but it was deep enough for relaxing in. Hawke had remained on the bank, watching Fenris with marked interest, a far from modest smile on his face. The mage hadn’t even begun taking off his own armour yet, and seemed rooted in place as he gawked at the naked elf.

“You’re stunning, you know?”

Fenris peered at Hawke still on the bank, laughing lightly. He hadn’t realised he had made no move to enter the water himself. 

“Uh, thank you? It’s nothing new though, Markus.”

“And yet it never gets old.”

“And the longer you take, the more chance someone else will find our stream!”

“Right!” 

Hawke promptly began undressing himself, sparing a glance and smirk at Fenris as he did; was he checking if Fenris was watching, or making sure? Fenris chuckled, also quite content with watching his lover undress in front of him. Hawke was a very attractive man, Fenris thought, not balky like a warrior might be, but toned from combat all the same. Although Hawke often fought at range and his strengths lay in his magical abilities, he was not hesitant about close combat when the need arose; and he wasn’t useless at using his staff as a physical weapon. Unlike Fenris, no tattoo of any kind marked Hawke’s skin, only the scars that too many battles had given him marred his paler complexion. Fenris’ eyes roamed over his body; he appreciated the way his muscles cut and angled down to his manhood, a good size, and the way the muscles on his back flexed as he leaned down to remove his boots. 

“You’re right, it never gets old.”

Hawke grinned at him and paused on the bank, completely naked. He offered Fenris a warrior pose, flexing both his biceps, before turning sideways and offering a new pose with a charming grin. 

“I’m glad you like what I have to offer.”

“Hurry up and get in here,” Fenris laughed, finally feeling able to relax after the long trip. “Fool.”

“But I’m your fool.”

Hawke flinched as he waded into the cool water, braving a quick dunk of his whole body to get the transition over with quicker. As the mage remerged from the clear water, he rubbed his face rigorously with both hands to relieve it of the grim from the days of travel.

“Oh, Maker’s breath, that feels wonderful.” He said with great relief as he slicked back his short hair and grinned at Fenris, who was still floating idly nearby watching. “I can feel it shrinking already though”.

Fenris snorted at him, “So there’ll be nothing left?”

“Oh, ouch! You wound me.”

Fenris shot the mage a teasing grin, before laying back to resume his floating. He stared up at the canopy above them, enjoying the last rays of sun that still shone through the leaves. He had missed these moments spent with Hawke alone, they had always been too few and far between.

“After this, let’s leave and go somewhere alone together. Somewhere peaceful without crazed, lunatics trying to take over cities… or the world, as it were.” It was Hawke’s suggestion, as if he had read Fenris’ mind.

“That sounds perfect.”

For the next few minutes they both busied themselves with washing the filth from their bodies, pausing only briefly from time to time to share a quick kiss. Using the sand lining the creek floor, they took turns in scrubbing each other’s backs before reluctantly leaving the cool water to dress once more in their filthy garments. It was a horrible feeling, to have to put sweaty, dirt covered clothing over clean skin, but Fenris supposed it was better than never having washed in the first place. The heavier pieces of armour they left off for now.

“I’m sleeping naked tonight, this is disgusting.” Hawke complained, in an outraged voice.

“Good idea. I won’t complain.”

“Hmm, but you might not get any sleep then either.” 

“….Good idea. I won’t complain.”

Hawke laughed as he rested his arm loosely over Fenris’ shoulders, and they walked slowly back to camp, metal armour clunking at their sides.

___

The following day, at the crack of dawn, Fenris and Hawke awoke and silently gathered the equipment they would be taking with them to battle that day. Despite their banter the night before, they had both slept the moment they reached their tent, exhausted from the long journey and the battle preparations that had taken place that evening. As always, they both attended to their tasks in a solemn silence, neither of them ever knowing what to say to the other before a battle, and the risks they posed. They had both accepted the sombre atmosphere on such days, preferring to avoid the mention of what could soon happen and seemed content with not saying their goodbyes before every fight. They only returned to conversing when the subject of battle plans or directions during combat were needed. In hindsight, Fenris wished that perhaps they had spent their evening in a more intimate way, just in case it would be their last, but he quickly shoved that depressing thought aside.

Fenris packed as many healing potions as he could carry into his pack; a stash had been divvied out the night before during a make-shift war council held by Cullen, involving the motley Inquisition crew and the leader of the chevaliers. The plan was simple really; they were to head out at first light and begin clearing the main path towards the temple. Leliana’s scouts had already located it and mapped out a direct route for them. They had also mapped several other potential paths in case the main one was too overrun by red Templars. The group was then split into several teams to tackle each path, with the instruction that they would ‘simply’ work their way through the enemy, taking out any and all potential threats. Fenris learned that the smaller team tasked with entering the temple would consist of Inquisitor Lavellan; Morrigan, the mage he’d met briefly in Skyhold; the person named Solas, who he kept hearing about, and two others whose names he did not yet know; Dorian and Iron Bull. These five were to arrive sometime soon and follow the rest through toward the temple, ideally not having to engage in combat but prepared for it all the same. 

It sounded simple enough, Fenris thought, but battles often sounded that way until you actually tried to put the plan into motion; there was really nothing simple about combat in the end. Fenris and Hawke had been teamed together with a small collection of Inquisition soldiers including Commander Cullen, two Inquisition mages; a small number of chevaliers; Cole and Cassandra. After some complaints from Varric, he was also added to their team. In all, Fenris was content with the people he would need to fight alongside, even Cole, and was mostly relieved that Sera and Vivienne would be nowhere in sight. Being constantly irritated and distracted by their annoying voices would not make the battle any easier for him.

So now at dawn they were almost ready to leave. Standing outside their tent, watching the increasing commotion in camp, Hawke suddenly disappeared, leaving Fenris to his thoughts. He idly watched the chevaliers across the campfire from him, they were already fully armoured, swords and shields strapped to their backs and waiting in formation silently. As Fenris milled around by his tent waiting for Hawke to return he marvelled at the discipline of their unit and wondered if he would have ever fit into such an organisation. Probably not, but maybe he’d pick up a thing or two from them in the battle to come. Hawke returned with two handfuls of bread and cheese and offered one to Fenris with a smile.

“I’ve no stomach for food before battle, Hawke.”

“You’ll need your strength, take it. Save it for later if you must.” Fenris conceded and reluctantly took the food.

“You’re probably right.”

“I usually am.” Hawke grinned at him as he began shovelling food into his mouth. 

Fenris smirked and motioned to the neat formation of the chevaliers with a flick of his head, offering no further explanation as to why he was pointing them out. Hawke glanced over between mouthfuls.

“Boring, right?”

“Very.”

“Yeah, we get all the fun. Let’s go.” Hawke had finished eating and nudged Fenris with his arm before they hurried to the designated assembly area at the entrance to the main path mapped. 

As they jogged over, they could hear orders being yelled from one of the chevaliers behind them, and the group joined them shortly after. Everyone had mostly arrived on time, save a few stragglers stumbling over half-dressed or in the midst of packing supplies into their bags. Everyone seemed to be content to stand silently as they waited to be addressed by Commander Cullen. Even Sera currently had her mouth shut, which Fenris couldn’t help but marvel at and be thankful for.

Commander Cullen eventually began a speech that was meant to motivate and unit them, Fenris supposed. He mostly tuned out of the man’s words and tried to focus his mind on what they were about to dive into once more. He had fought Templars before, mostly in protection of Hawke, so that was nothing new. He thought about how these red Templars might be different, as Cullen had suggested the previous evening. They sounded like a formidable enemy; faster and stronger, Cullen said, with enhanced stamina and healing abilities. He speculated that some could even 'sew' red lyrium deposits into the soil. Hawke had given Fenris a pointed look at that bit of information and Fenris agreed that it was probably best he stayed away from those completely. Apparently others could shoot red lyrium crystals at high speeds, like an archer might shoot arrows; another to avoid or dispose of quickly just in case.  
As Fenris was lost in his own thoughts, Cullen merely a distant background sound, he felt a light nudge at his elbow and looked up at Hawke. The mage had a serious look on his face and motioned with a slight tilt of his head to follow him. The pair slipped out of the gathering, noticed by only a couple of easily distracted soldiers, and Fenris found himself being led back to their tent.

“What are we doing, Hawke?”

He didn’t reply, but slipped into the tent and held the flap open for Fenris. Once inside Hawke straightened up and grabbed Fenris by the front of his metal armour, pulling him in close and looking down into his eyes with a sincere expression. Fenris raised his brows in surprise, unsure of what to make of his strange behaviour.

“Hawke?”

“When that nightmare demon finally appeared, I think we all knew there was little hope we’d all get out of there alive. And the only thing I could think of, Fenris, was you.” Hawke’s eyes fixed on the elf with an intense gaze and Fenris noticed him swallow; he was trying hard to control his emotions. “Not about what I should do or how I could possibly fight the thing, but about you alone.” His voice rose in frustration. “Just you, Fenris, and how the last thing I’d said to you was… well, of no importance at all! I couldn’t even think of what it was. I just stood there and thought about how I’d never be able to tell you how much I love you again, or how much you mean to me, or how much I wished you were there at my side.” He breathed out, falling silence as he looked into Fenris’ eyes. His grip on the elf’s armour tightened. “I don’t want to feel that way ever again. I know we don’t usually say much before going into battle. Maybe its fear… I don’t know, but I want that to end. It ends today, alright? I fucking love you, Fenris.” The intensity and choice of his words made Fenris blush. “There is no one I want at my side more than you, Fenris. And please, I want you to take care of yourself today. Don’t put yourself at any undue risk. Please avoid being touched by those red Templar bastards, promise me.” Hawke gave Fenris’ armour a gentle shake, giving the elf a slight jolt in turn. His eyes hadn’t left Hawke’s while he made his plea and he thought he glimpsed the mage’s eyes turn glassy with emotion. Hawke’s expression was pained, desperate somehow, like everything hung on what the elf would say next. Fenris had only seen Hawke get this emotional after his mother had been murdered; he wasn’t sure what to say, so he said nothing for a moment and just looked his lover in the eyes with sincerity. Hawke’s frank words made him feel nervous, and their accuracy scared him; after all, it was possible that one of them might not come out of this alive. He suddenly wished he’d said more before each of their past battles too; he’d been stupid, they both had. Fenris lifted his hands and placed them over the mages’ were they held him.

“I promise you, I will be careful. But please take care of yourself too; please let the soldiers and chevaliers fight the close combat and stay behind their line. If you can do that, I promise not to take any undue risks to come to your aid. I want nothing more than for both of us to come out of this unscathed, Markus. I love you, ~only you~, more than anything. When this is over, I want to be able to walk away from it at your side.” Hawke nodded to Fenris’ request and the elf lifted one of his hands to brush Hawke’s bristly cheek. Fenris hooked his hand behind the mage’s neck suddenly and pulled the taller man in the final distance, to press his lips to Hawke’s mouth. Hawke eagerly accepted with parted lips, a breath of anguished relief brushing against Fenris’ lips as he returned the kiss with passion. Their metal breast plates made a dull ‘clunk’ in the otherwise silent tent as Hawke drew the elf in close, the armour making their embrace a little awkward but neither of them cared in that instant. 

Hawke was the one to finally break the kiss but he didn’t let go of Fenris. The mage rested his cheek against the elf’s smoother one and held him there in silence. Fenris had shared many intimate moments with Hawke, but this felt different somehow; he’d never felt closer to the mage than in that moment. Fenris pressed his lips to Hawke’s ear.

“Don’t make this a goodbye though, Markus.” 

“No, this isn’t goodbye, Little Wolf. But wouldn’t you rather go into battle knowing that I know exactly how you feel if, Maker forbid, something should happen?”

“We should have done this sooner, Markus… Thank you.”

With that, Hawke released Fenris and disappeared out of the tent. Fenris could have sworn he saw the mages’ hand wipe across his eyes quickly as he slipped out, and it warmed his heart. In the silence and dim light of the tent, Fenris took a moment to compose himself before slipping out after Hawke. The mage was standing a few feet away, having paused to wait for Fenris, and they both walked in silence back to the others. Apart from Varric, who offered the pair a faint, slightly sad smile, no one else turned as they reunited with the group.

___

After Commander Cullen’s motivational speech, of which Fenris and Hawke heard very little, the group split into their smaller teams to discuss more detailed plans about how they would tackle their designated tasks. Fenris and Hawke were part of the main team tasked with clearing the shortest route to the temple; their team therefore had a larger number of members and, as it seemed to him, the more skilled of the bunch. It was far more heavily weighted toward close-combat, but he figured that was mostly because they were in higher supply of warriors than those skilled at ranged attacks. Leliana’s scouts, as they were lead to believe, were also already scattered about the Arbor Wilds, and would render aid from the protection of the forest. 

When they finally set off down their designated path, a small collection of inquisition soldiers were left behind to man the camp site and tend to the horses. The other teams followed along behind the main group for a short distance, before branching off to the other, more minor paths they were tasked at clearing. Once alone, their squad finally settled into a steady pace forward. 

Dawn had arrived during all this, and there were already hints of the sun’s rays trying to break through the foliage low in the sky. Soon it would be casting speckled partners of light onto their path, though Fenris doubted he’d be able to enjoy the sight by that point. He enjoyed being out here in the forest; he was used to cities mostly, and so this felt like a rare treat; a shame it would soon be ruined with bloodshed. Birds were out in full force, calling to each other in songs Fenris had never heard before. Other wildlife wasn’t quite as brave, and their journey through the forest, for now, was rather uneventful. Fenris looked around him at the other men and women who he was about to fight alongside, and wondered which of them he would see walk out of the forest alive? How many graves would they be digging in this forest in the next few days? He glanced up at Hawke; would he have to dig his lover’s grave one day? He shook his head and pushed that horrible thought from his mind. Hawke looked down at him in time to catch his sombre expression and simply placed a hand on his back, seeming to understand where the elf’s thoughts were going. 

“Not today, Fenris.”

“You’re reading minds now too, Hawke?”

Just then, Varric pushed between them and Hawke moved his hand from Fenris’ back to Varric’s shoulder, a smile masking the recent grim expression.

“Good morning, Varric.” Hawke put a cheery ring to his voice.

“Good? I’m not sure I’d call it that.”

“No? Listen to the birds singing, feel the fresh morning air!” Hawke waved his hands around dramatically, motioning to the forest around him. “You can’t say you’d rather be in Kirkwall, surely?”

“Kirkwall doesn’t have red Templars.”

“Fair point. Did you sleep well?”

“All I could hear was Blackwall snoring,” Varric yawned loudly, emphasising his point. “I was tempted to wake Bianca early.”

Cassandra, who had been walking silently in front of them, paused to drop into line with them, falling in alongside Fenris. 

“I wish you would have, the man kept me up all night.”

“With his snoring, or…?”

“Varric!” Cassandra scowled down at the dwarf indignantly, but a slight blush touched her cheeks. 

Fenris smirked at the exchange; he was glad he wasn’t the only one with a short a fuse. Fenris looked at Cassandra appraisingly; she was about the same height as he was and spoke with an accent he couldn’t quite place. Other than the nasty scar cutting across her cheek, which spoke of the many battles she had likely encountered in her 30 or so years, she was pretty enough, and he appreciated her practical choice of armour and short hairstyle. Nothing like Isabela, he mused; he had always marvelled that her breasts hadn’t fallen from her ridiculously scant outfits she insisted on wearing in fights; shame really. 

Fenris offered his hand to Cassandra.

“Well met, I am Fenris.” Cassandra withdrew her glare from the dwarf to turn her attention to Fenris, accepting his hand shake with a firm grip. 

“Cassandra. Do not listen to anything Varric tells you about me. He is a liar.”

“I have known this for many years.”

“He lies with flair though,” Hawke grinned a little, giving Varric’s shoulder a fond pat. 

“Thank you, Hawke.” Varric nodded sagely to Hawke. 

“Fenris, I have heard many good things about you. I am looking forward to seeing your unique skills in battle.” Ignoring the dwarf and mage, Cassandra turned her attention to Fenris, who gave Hawke an accusing look as his ‘unique skills’ were mentioned.

“Hey, you have unique skills! Why wouldn’t I gloat a little bit?” Hawke offered Fenris an innocent shrug.

“He wouldn’t stop gloating, actually.” Varric chimed in.

“He’s demonstrating his lying ability again.” Hawke said flatly, giving Varric a cuff around the ear. Varric ducked and slipped away with a chuckle, seeking safety further up the procession.

Cassandra cleared her throat.

“As I was saying, Hawke tells me your markings offer you quite the style.”

“It’s unique, I suppose, yes. Though I have been warned against getting too close in this battle; red lyrium and all.”

Cassandra nodded slowly, glancing down at Fenris’ bared arms, and the extensive lyrium veins that marked them.

“Perhaps that is wise.” She raised her gaze to meet Hawke’s briefly, who was walking at Fenris’ other side. Fenris was unsure of the look they exchanged, but afterwards she added, “I will have your back in battle, Fenris.”

Cassandra nodded to them both and fell back in the line to walk alongside Commander Cullen, who held up the rear with his soldiers.

“She scares me.” Hawke offered in a whisper.

“I like her.”

“I figured you would; she’s short tempered and doesn’t really take shit from anyone. You’ll get along swimmingly.”

As usual, Fenris didn’t see much of Cole while they marched along through the forest; the boy seemed to have some serious sneaking abilities that Fenris couldn’t help but be envious of. 

___

Within an hour or so of walking, a commotion could suddenly be heard up ahead. Cries of surprise and confusion suddenly erupted, followed by an almighty roar, more shouting, and finally the familiar sounds of fighting. The group stopped, trying to pin point where the sounds were coming from, and then all of sudden they were running. The chevaliers charged down the centre of the path, with Cassandra, Cullen and the soldiers also pushing past them through the narrow forest path. Fenris, Hawke, Varric and the two mages paused long enough to take up the rear, before running in after them and spreading out through the vegetation. A few yards down the path they came to a clearing, where those before them had spread out ready to battle whatever they found there. 

Fenris stopped dead, looking around in confusion at the group of warriors who were all standing around with nothing to do. The sounds of combat had all died away just as suddenly, and the others looked about as confused as he was. Fenris peered through their ranks towards the edge of the clearing where their attention appeared to be drawn. He could make out what looked like four figures lying scattered motionless on the ground; three of which were clad in what was clearly Templar armour, with the red taint of corrupted lyrium protruding through the metal. The other was a larger creature, which explained the loud roar they’d heard echo through the forest. This was likely one of the Templars that Commander Cullen had spoken of; it looked much less human than the others due to its advanced stages of corruption.

In the midst of the carnage stood Cole, two vicious daggers still gripped in his hands, and a thin steam of blood dripping from their tips. Fenris raised a brow at the scene and then looked at Hawke, who appeared to be equally as surprised, and impressed.

“Probably good you didn’t try to kill him, Fenris.”

“Probably...”


	8. A Good Start

Cole slipped his daggers back into their sheaths on his back and stepped over the corpses nonchalantly, proceeding to lead the group on into the forest once more. As Fenris walked past the bodies he looked down and noticed they’d only suffered a small number of wounds. All of the cuts and stabs the daggers had made into their flesh were placed with such precision, almost care, as if to cause maximum damage with minimum suffering. Their deaths had been very quick; Fenris never considered that a kill could be compassionate, and he wasn’t sure that he’d even try to be with most of his enemies.

The next clearing they reached was a lot more populated with enemy, and the warriors immediately engaged. With a loud cry they charged forward in unison, and the sound of metal clashing could be heard before Fenris and Hawke had even entered the area. Leaving Hawke at the edge of the clearing with the other two mages, Fenris ran toward his potential targets and, with some hesitation, chose a target that he deemed the ‘safest’ and least corrupted by red lyrium. Having to carefully select his opponent rather than charge into the fray as he normally would, caused a frustrated growl to escape his lips. He used his annoyance, however, to ambush a small hand-picked group of red Templars, each of which barely looked any different to the Templars he was familiar with fighting. 

As he ran, greatsword held behind him ready to swing, he felt the gentle touch of protective magic wash over him; Hawke always had his back. But as Fenris was about to dive into the fight, the group of Templars suddenly ignited in a burst of flames, just shy of missing him; Hawke also loved his fire. Fenris grinned as he leapt into their midst, finishing each of them off with barely more than a single wide sweep of his blade. He could feel the familiar burn of the lyrium begin to stir under his skin, and with the taste of battle it sprang to life. As he cut his way through a second group of Templars he could sense the markings already emitting their bright blue glow; the light cast on his enemies turned their corrupted lyrium an odd purple hue. Already covered in fresh sprays of blood from those defeated, Fenris gripped his sword tightly, swinging it behind him once more in preparation for the next. With fierce concentration on the power burning under his skin, he flitted across the battlefield like a ghost, engaging his next foes who had no chance to even notice his approach. With the element of surprise, Fenris took the unknowing Templars down with ease; he began to wonder when he’d encounter the more difficult troops. 

Combat sounds rang out all around Fenris as the others fought beside him. He caught a glimpse of Cassandra close by, battling a creature that looked similar to the one Cole had taken down. She appeared a formidable force, though she wasn’t able to best the beast as quickly as Cole had somehow managed. As he watched, a mage from somewhere behind him leant the warrior aid by throwing several fireballs into the mix. Seeing she was holding up well for now, and wishing to keep his promise to Hawke, he stayed back from the corrupted creature and looked elsewhere for another fight. The soldiers and chevaliers were scattered about the battlefield, all heavily engaged with various different Templars or corrupted breasts, Cullen alongside them. 

As Fenris scanned the field quickly to find anyone in need of aid or an unengaged enemy, he spotted two unfamiliar men running toward him, both dressed in the unmistakable colours of the Grey Wardens. Had the wardens also been called to aid them? Just as the thought crossed his mind and seeing them immediately raise their swords as they neared him, he recalled the conversation he’d had with Hawke not a few days before. Fenris quickly ducked to avoid the blows that were clearly meant for him and rolled to one side. Down on one knee now, he swept his sword behind him ready for a great swing to take out their legs; these must be the controlled Wardens Hawke had mentioned. The pair had spun around to face him once more, and it was then that he saw the blank looks in their eyes as they carelessly dove at him in another attack. The look gave him pause in his attack and he spun aside of their blades instead; feeling conflicted at ending their lives. The men had clearly lost control of their minds and no longer had any freewill; Fenris let out an anguished groan as he turned to face them once more. Two well-placed bolts whizzed by his ear and struck one of the men in the centre of the forehead, throwing him back lifeless to the ground. Fenris spun his sword over his head and cut the other man down with little enthusiasm. As the corpse slumped to the ground, Varric was suddenly at his side.

“Less thinking, Broody! We can help the other Wardens when Corypheus is dead!” The dwarf gave him a quick pat on the back before running back to the others still fighting.

Fenris couldn’t help but look down at the two men they’d slain; despite the countless people he had killed in his life, the death of innocent people had always left its mark on him. He shook his head quickly to clear it and return his focus to the battle at hand. 

Not a moment passed when a sudden burst of pain shot through his right shoulder, throwing him forward onto his hands and knees from the impact. Fenris immediately recognised the familiar burn of metal slicing through flesh, and a grunt of pain escaped his lips as he caught sight of the blade that jutted through his body from behind. Agony washed over him a second time as the blade was yanked back once more, disappearing as fast as it had come and leaving a steady flow of his own blood in its wake. He let out a low growl as he spun onto his back, immediately holding his sword above him protectively, in anticipation of a second attack. The creature that Fenris came face to face with had clearly, at some point, been human; the red crystals that had ruptured through its skin, however, stole all semblance of humanity from it now. With his right arm weakened and the other unable to singularly handle the full weight of his greatsword effectively, his enemy lifted its sword once more to strike a final blow to the elf. Finding himself quickly out of options, Fenris rolled to one side in an attempt to dodge the attack. 

Just then, an eerie flash of movement swept across Fenris’ vision, and a strange figure blinked in and out of view around the creature for only a moment. It gasped abruptly and simply fell to the ground beside Fenris, dead. The elf stared at the creature in surprise as it lay motionless beside him, panting from pain and effort. The corrupted lyrium was now dangerously close to touching his skin and he quickly rolled aside from it, trying to distance himself.

Fenris looked up to find Cole standing where the creature had just stood, blades dripping and armour similarly coated in the blood of his enemies. The boy’s eyes were still shadowed by the large hat, making him a chilling sight to behold. 

“Not today, he said.” Cole flickered off into the battle once more, leaving Fenris on the ground to stare after him in shock.

“Fuck me…” Fenris breathed out in shock and relief; he wasn’t sure if he should love the boy or fear him. At the very least, he certainly had Fenris’ utmost respect now.

“I will later!” Hawke suddenly slide to his knees beside Fenris, also panting from effort. Despite his jest, the look on the mage’s face was full of concern. “That was close. Let me see that shoulder, love.” 

As Hawke fussed over his wounded shoulder, the battle appeared to come to a close around them. One final small scuffle between Cassandra and some remaining Templars ended across the field, with Varric jumping in to help finish them off from a distance. The warrior turned to give him a curt nod of gratitude.

Fenris turned his attention back to Hawke as the pain burned to life in full force, with the adrenaline of battle subsiding. He finally let go of the sword he realised he’d been gripping, to cradle his wounded shoulder. Hawke physically forced him to lie back and quickly removed his damaged shoulder guard to get a better look at the injury.

“Cole is really something, huh?” Hawke always tried to make idle chit-chat as he tended to Fenris’ wounds, in an effort to distract him from the pain. Fenris had initially found it irritating, but had since grown to find it endearing, and he appreciated the intension.

“No kidding. Ow!” Fenris flinched and shut his eyes against the pain, as Hawke put pressure on either side of the wound to slow the bleeding. The warm, almost burning, sensation of healing magic spread out over his shoulder as Hawke murmured a spell under his breath. 

“Sorry, love.” Turning to those around him, Hawke called out, “Fiona, little help!?” 

“How is he?” Varric stepped into view, Bianca rested on his shoulder and appearing unharmed.

“I saved him. Not today.” Cole suddenly appeared at Varric’s side, as he seemed to do, and the dwarf appeared unsurprised.

“Thanks, Kid.” Varric gave Cole a fond pat on the shoulder.

“Need some help, Hawke?” A dark haired, older looking elf crouched down beside them. She was dressed in typical mage robes and carried a simple staff at her side. She moved to kneel beside Hawke and placed her hands by his on Fenris’ shoulder, ready to take over.

“Thank you, Fiona. I think I’ve stopped the bleeding, but you’re more of a healer then I am.” 

He let her slip her hands where his had been, to continue the healing he had started. As she went to work, Hawke rummaged around in his own pack and offered Fenris one of his healing potions to compliment Fiona’s work. Fenris took the potion and drank the bitter contents with a cringe; there was no point in arguing with Hawke about healing. 

“Did the crystals touch you at all?” Hawke’s words were measured, though Fenris could see the question had been eating at him. 

“No, I don’t think so…” Fenris attempted to give the mage a reassuring smile, though it didn’t seem to console Hawke at all, who simply nodded to his response.

Within a few minutes, Fiona’s healing had helped the pain of the stab wound subside somewhat, turning it into a dull ache he could almost ignore.

“Thank you.” He offered to the elf, and she nodded to Fenris with a kind smile before standing. 

Resting her hand on Hawke’s shoulder briefly in reassurance, she returned to the larger group now milling in the centre of the field, to tend to the other wounded members. Fenris glanced around and found he was relieved to see none of the group looked too badly injured.

Pushing himself up with his good arm, Fenris turned to look up at Cole from the ground and nodded to him. 

“Thank you also, Cole. You have… quite the fighting style.”

“Yes.” He nodded his agreement.

“Right, well I appreciate you coming to my aid.”

“As do I,” Hawke offered Cole an appreciative smile.

“So much pain if I didn’t.” The boy’s tone was tinged with sadness, and left the others present in a sombre silence at the implication of his words. 

Hawke turned to Fenris with a sober expression, before eventually offering his hand to the elf. Fenris accepted the mage’s help and heaved himself to his feet using his good arm. 

“I’m off to a good start,” Fenris offered flatly.

“You hesitated… I don’t think I’ve seen you hesitate like that before.” Hawke kept a hold of the elf’s hand as he spoke, his concern seeming to grow once more. 

“I’m not accustomed to killing innocent men, Hawke.” 

“Innocent? Fenris, they chose to bind themselves to demons…” Hawke’s brow farrowed at Fenris’ words, and the elf couldn’t tell if he was baffled or annoyed at him.

“A conversation for another time, perhaps?” Varric interrupted quickly, “Like I said, Broody, don’t think too much. They’ll kill you if you let them, innocent or otherwise.”

Hawke nodded in agreement to Varric’s words, letting the topic go for now. 

“They took me by surprise, that’s all. It will not happen again.” 

“I’m glad you’re going to be alright, I apologise I couldn’t react more quickly earlier, Fenris. Some of these Templars really are much faster than we’re used to; Cullen was right. That… thing was on you so quickly I didn’t even get a chance to cast anything before he’d stabbed you. He came from across the field, and that was ~after~ Cassandra and Cullen had both stabbed it multiple times.”

“So the day should be interesting then.” Fenris replied in a flat tone. 

“To put it lightly.”

“And you owe me no apology, Hawke, but thank you.”

“Well then, ready to continue, Broody? The others are heading out already.”

Fenris followed Varric’s gaze to the rest of their group who had already begun to file out of the clearing and onwards into the forest. 

“Yes, let’s go.” 

Fenris rotated his shoulder to test it, and found the ache still there, but bearable. He crouched down to collect his sword, rested it on his shoulder and followed the others as they trailed behind the main group. Fenris wasn’t sure when, but Cole had disappeared into the shadows once more.

___

It was only a short walk before they encountered their third group of enemies, this time spotting them from a distance. The team quickly regrouped and spread out in a more organised and planned attack. On Hawke’s protest, Fenris was forced to take a step back, however, and allowed the other warriors to charge in first.

“Just until your shoulder is stronger.” He’d offered apologetically.

Seeing the wisdom in this, Fenris hung back with Varric and the mages instead, before joining the fray. With ease he began picking off any Templars that were distracted by other fighters; not opposed to dirty fighting in this case. Each time Fenris ran in to take on a new foe he felt Hawke’s protective magic wash over him, building his confidence up once more. Likewise he saw many of the other warriors respond likewise, as the mages first cast their protective spells over them, before unleashing their own kind of fury onto the corrupted enemy.

More Grey Wardens appeared during that third encounter, this time flanked by various demons. These men and women also had a similar blank look in their eyes, and Fenris had to force himself to engage them like any other. With each one slain he felt a pang of regret, recalling the good people he knew Grey Wardens to be. Unlike the other enemy, he took no joy in ending their lives. 

___

The group congregated after the battle and all agreed that it was time to take a moment to recover. They found a small glade close by to catch their breath, heal the injuries that needed attention, and simply take a moment of respite. Had the day not been marred by bloodshed, Fenris and Hawke might have been able to enjoy the beauty of the glade they found, but as it were, the flowers and butterflies that fluttered about mostly went unnoticed. 

“How is your shoulder holding up?” Hawke sat down heavily beside Fenris and reached out to examine his shoulder more closely with a sympathetic look. 

Hawke had also kept his promise to Fenris, and had stayed well back from the combat; as a result he was uninjured, with almost no blood on his armour at all. The same could certainly not be said about Fenris.

“It’s holding up ok, thank you.” Fenris offered the mage a smile of reassurance, though his shoulder was plaguing him much more now than he let on.

“Do you need more healing?”

“Save your strength, Hawke, we aren’t done for the day yet.” Fenris took a long swig from his water skin, before offering it to Hawke.

“Are you sure? Between the two of us, Fiona and I can spare a little more to make you comfortable.” He accepted the water, taking a drink before returning it to Fenris’ pack.

“I’m sure the others could use it too. I might take you up on that tonight though, after we make camp.” He nodded to Hawke earnestly.

“Very well. And… Although you got injured, I can see you’re trying to be careful, Fenris. Thank you.”

Fenris nodded to Hawke and offered a faint smile.

“I admit it’s frustrating, but I said I would, and I will hold to that.”

Hawke gave the elf a grateful smile, before pushing up to join the rest of the group to offer what healing he could to those who needed it. Fenris rummaged around in his bag for the bread and cheese Hawke had insisted he bring, and he felt grateful that he’d listened for once. So far they had been quite lucky that no one was more seriously injured, though Fenris wondered how much longer that would last. 

___

Once recouped and reorganised, they set off again. Fenris never had to look far to find Hawke, who seemed unwilling to let the elf out of his sight. It irritated Fenris to a very small degree, as he began to feel that Hawke didn’t trust him to look after himself anymore. Fenris had to keep reminding himself that this battle was an exception due to its personal risks of corruption, and Hawke only had his best interests at heart. In truth, it warmed his heart how much Hawke cared.

The first death that the group would see happened suddenly and without warning. As the group filed through the forest silently, their ears always tuned in to the various sounds around them, a sudden red flash of light whizzed through the group. Fenris saw one of the Inquisition soldiers fall abruptly to the ground, his helmet flying from his head in pieces. In the next few seconds there was a brief moment of chaos as the group all ducked and dived for cover as they tried to work out where the attack had come from. Not a moment later more red missiles shot through the group, causing another two soldiers to cry out in pain as the lyrium projectiles tore through their flesh. Fenris was looking around frantically for Hawke, when he was suddenly tugged to the forest floor.

“Stay down!! That’s red lyrium!” Hawke cried urgently into this ear as he half covered Fenris, using his own body as a shield. 

Fenris growled angrily at having to hide, wanting nothing more than to rush out and find those responsible. He could hear yelling and fighting nearby, the sound of flying lyrium now gone as the attackers seemed to be engaged in close combat. 

“Hawke, get off!” He pushed at the mage, who reluctantly let him up.

“Be careful…” Hawke reminded him in an anxious tone.

As Fenris ran to join the battle, he noticed a small collection of new allies had joined their group. At least four Inquisition scouts had engaged the attackers. As Fenris was about to join the fight, a sudden and violent blow from the side sent him flying to the ground and onto his back, his head spinning. He shook his head, frantically looking around to work out what had hit him. A pair of vicious looking red daggers suddenly came careening towards his face; they appeared to be an extension of the creature that wielded them. Out of nowhere a hooded figure leapt over him, intercepting the dagger wielding Templar and taking it out. 

As Fenris was pushing himself up, his rescuer stepped back into view. Fenris could see the elf’s pretty face beneath the hood; it was Teyrelle, the scout from the road to Skyhold. 

Teyrelle extended her hand to offer him help up.

“You’re not having much luck with rogues lately, are you? Watch out for those shadows.” She grinned down at Fenris, offering him a wink as he accepted her hand, her breath coming in pants of exertion. 

“No, I’m really not.” He growled in annoyance as he accepted her help up. “You have my thanks.”

“Come on, I couldn’t let him ruin that handsome face.” She offered his stunned look a coquettish grin before darting off to re-join the fight. Fenris couldn’t help but stare after her as she made quick-work of another Templar that got in her way. He smirked to himself; flirting was the last thing he’d expected during this fight; especially from anyone other than Hawke.

“Is she trying to cut in on my man?” Hawke suddenly appeared beside him, apparently having seen and heard the whole exchange. He sounded outraged enough that Fenris wasn’t sure if he was serious or not.

Fenris gave Hawke a sidelong look and snorted at his reaction.

“I think we have bigger problems on our hands right now, don’t you?!” Fenris laughed to himself as he started running towards the action once more, catching another protest from the mage as he left.

“It better not have been working, Fenris!” 

___

Once the targets had been eliminated, the atmosphere was much more sombre than after the last few battles. They congregated where the battle had taken place and surveyed the scene; in total, three Inquisition soldiers and one Inquisition mage had been slain. Fenris avoided looking at the bodies too closely, but it was plainly obvious that the mage and one warrior, at least, had succumbed to the missile attacks. The others had likely just been too exhausted from the previous battles to fight as effectively as they had been; it was well and truly time to set up camp. 

Fenris walked ahead of the group, having seen enough death in his life time, and took a seat a short distance away. As some of the others, including the scouts, followed his lead, he noticed that the only ones not present were Commander Cullen and his four surviving soldiers. Fenris noticed they had lingered at the site of the battle to attend to their fallen comrades. Anguished looks marked all their faces as they completed the undesirable task of burying their friends.


	9. Forgive Me

By the time dusk was settling in, the group was exhausted and camp was set up not far from the last battle site. In total, of the nineteen in their team who had first set out that day, four of the group had fallen, not counting the two scouts they’d found after the final battle. Only two mages were left in the group now, including Hawke, which made Fenris increasingly nervous. 

Having travelled light, the group built a small fire in a more densely forested area to hide the light it cast, and rolled out their bedrolls. After Hawke and Fenris had removed their blood splattered armour, and washed off what blood and grim they could from their hands and faces, Fenris selected a sleeping location on the outer edge of camp. It was far enough from the rest of the group to offer privacy, but close enough to remain safe. Hawke stretched out beside Fenris and propped himself up on one elbow to look down at the elf, whose eyes stared straight up at the darkening sky. He spoke in a soft, tired voice.

“Can I offer you that healing now?”

Fenris turned his head to look up at Hawke and offered him a faint smile. He extended his injured arm toward the mage, resting it lazily against the man’s side in acceptance.

“Please.”

Hawke smiled warmly at Fenris as he placed his hand to the injured shoulder, the warm sensation of his healing spell permeating into the aching flesh and doing wonders to the constant pain that had settled there. Fenris closed his eyes and smiled blissfully; relishing the relief the mage was giving him.

“Thank you, Markus.”

“You’re very welcome, love.” Hawke leaned down and kissed Fenris tenderly on the lips before slipping down beside him to drape an arm over the elf. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“I’m glad you’re here to ensure it.”

Fenris continued to look up at the stars that were slowly beginning to appear in the darkening sky. The peace and quiet of the forest at dusk put a smile on his face; it was a nice contrast to the yelling and clanging of metal they’d endured through the day. He shifted to slip his arm around Hawke, who adjusted himself to rest his head on the elf’s chest, content to move in closer. 

“This is my favourite part of battle; relaxing with you afterwards.” Hawke mused, sounding as though sleep would claim him sooner rather than later. But then he paused and tilted his face towards Fenris’ “Before I forget; are you replacing me with that elf?” The mage’s tone suddenly sounded accusing, though Fenris caught a hint of amusement in his words.

Fenris snorted at the question as he had previously, though he decided to play along with Hawke’s foolery this time.

“I’m not sure, maybe? She’s quite attractive, don’t you think?” Fenris couldn’t stop the sly smirk that crossed his lips, though he avoided meeting Hawke’s eyes.

Hawke gasped indignantly and sat up to give Fenris a wounded look; he was far too good at these dramatics sometimes.

“Surely not more attractive than I?!” Hawke’s tone took on a snotty noble air, and his face suddenly hovered into Fenris’ line of sight. “Would you look at this face?!” The mage’s expression broke into a charming toothy grin.

“Argh, I know! I have to see it every day…” Fenris forced the smirk from his lips, trying to sound bored and added an eye roll to his response for credibility. “I think I need a change of scenery, don’t you?”

A devastatingly sad frown suddenly crossed the mage’s face, not two inches from Fenris’, and he couldn’t help but laugh at the pathetic expression.

“Wow, Merrill would die to see those puppy eyes, Markus!”

Hawke grinned down at the elf, joining in the laughter; he seemed pleased that he’d managed to make Fenris laugh, and the elf found Hawke’s enjoyment in his game heart-warming. With the horror of the day forgotten in that moment of playfulness, Fenris reached up and pulled Hawke down on top of him to give the mage a kiss.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Markus, I have eyes for no one but you.”

“I know,” Hawke pulled back to smile down at his lover. “I admit though… I did feel a little jealous when I saw her flirt with you. I’m not used to people being brave enough!” He chuckled and gave the elf a kiss on the nose. 

“Were you really jealous?”

“A little; of course.”

“Huh… I think I’m pleased.” Fenris smiled at the mage once more before Hawke placed his head back onto Fenris’ chest, settling in beside him. “I’m glad you’re a brave man, Markus.” He added in afterthought.

___

Fenris lost track of how long they lay there together, both men closing their eyes and dozing in a light sleep, which was more than they had expected tonight. Despite the brutal battle they’d just fought, and with more to come, it was nights like this that Fenris appreciated most; lying side by side with his Hawke, simply finding comfort in each other. Hawke’s absent caresses and intermittent kisses told him that he felt no different.

At some point during the dead of night, a hush of whispering spread over the camp, rousing Fenris from his shallow sleep. The elf lifted his head to look around the camp in irritation, seeking the reason for the commotion and trying not to disturb Hawke. The mage refused to open his eyes, letting out a faint groan of annoyance as he felt Fenris shift beneath him. Stubbornly, he stayed draped over Fenris’ side, refusing to be disturbed just yet. 

Fenris noticed a small group had formed on the other side of the camp fire consisting of Cassandra, Commander Cullen and Varric. They seemed to have gathered around a new group of people that had arrived some time during the night, without him noticing. Fenris frowned in confusion toward the group, until he realised that one of the newcomers was the Inquisitor. With her was the elven man Fenris had caught her with on that first night in Skyhold, the large qunari from the tavern… and the Tevinter mage who’d been drunkenly sprawled across his lap. A growl of disgust immediately broke from his throat before he could help himself and he tensed, causing Hawke to lift his head suddenly to follow the elf’s gaze.

“What’s wrong?” Hawke squinted across the fire-lit camp towards the newcomers, trying to make sense of it all through half-lidded eyes. “...Oh, the Inquisitor is h-” As Hawke recognised who else was with the Inquisitor he cut himself off. The mage immediately turned to Fenris and placed a hand firmly on his chest, presumably to stop an inevitable attack. “Fenris… It’s not what you think.” Hawke spoke quickly, using his best understanding, yet warning tone; the mage was obviously trying to intervene in whatever outburst he knew was about to occur. 

“Not what I think?! He’s a fucking mage from Tevinter, isn’t he? What is ‘not what I think’, Hawke?” Fenris all but hissed at the mage, shoving the hand from his chest abruptly as he glared at Hawke. “Why wouldn’t you warn me?!”

Hawke pushed himself up and actually sat on Fenris’ waist, leaning over him to pin him down and speak more quietly at his ear. Despite being at the very edge of the camp, a few people had already begun to look over at the commotion that was unfolding.

“Please, calm down. He’s not what you think; Dorian is a good guy.” Hawke’s understanding tone had switched to one of warning alone, trying desperately to avoid the inevitable encounter between Fenris and the mage.

Fenris snorted in disbelief.

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response, Hawke. Now, ~get off~ me!” He all but spat the latter out at Hawke in a dangerous tone; his anger had obviously reached its peak in a matter of seconds. Possessing enough self-respect not to make a childish scene by physically struggling beneath the mage, Fenris shot a warning glare at Hawke instead and waited for him to get off. Hawke knew better than to argue. 

“~Please~, Fenris… Trust me.” Hawke matched the gravity of Fenris’ expression with a plea of his own, before he sat back and released him. “Please…” He repeated desperately, eyes never leaving Fenris’ face.

Fenris sat bolt upright and glared daggers at the group still standing across the campsite. A sneer was fixed to his face, as he considered his next move. He wanted nothing more than to leap over the campfire and sink his blade into the mage. Another filthy Tevinter mage gone; another slaver unable to hurt others. Visions of ending Danarius came to his mind then, and the pure satisfaction he’d felt once that was over. Would this feel the same? 

He fixed his eyes on the mage, studying him; he looked nothing like Danarius. He was younger, less serious. He seemed to be engaging in some sort of banter with the Inquisitor, who looked at the man with great fondness. His responses to her seemed familiar, almost playful… kind-hearted. The two of them had not noticed the commotion across the camp fire, although Varric and the qunari had, and both were watching them intently now. Noticing the intense focus of their companions, the Inquisitor and Dorian eventually looked over at him too.

After fixing them all with a pointed glare, he suddenly turned the look on Hawke, speaking so dangerously close to his face that the mage flinched, looking guilty.

“Trust you? You don’t know what you’re asking, Hawke!” Fenris tried to keep his voice down, but it was clear that the others had heard him from across the camp, as they each looked at each other in confusion at the elf’s word.

Fenris pushed up abruptly and stalked off into the dark forest without looking back at any of them. As he pushed through the more densely forested area surrounding their camp, he angrily shoved aside the undergrowth in a blind rage, brushing aside branches and knocking his injured shoulder against trees as he fled. 

Fenris was furious at Hawke for not seeing his side of what he must have known was going to be an issue for him. Trust him? The mage was really walking a fine line using that against him at a time like this. How could he ever expect Fenris to shake hands and make nice with a Tevinter mage, after all he’d had to endure at the hands of one for so many years? Hawke was supposed to have his back; why had he said nothing about the possibility that he would have to cooperate with that man? Hawke had said he’d fought with the Inquisitor and her close circle; clearly he was one of them. Was he trying to deceive him? Fenris felt betrayed; how could Hawke do that? The elf shook his head, the angry glare never leaving his face as he continued to storm blindly through the dark forest, unsure of which direction he was going or how far he’d walked. 

___

Fenris wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he was abruptly stopped in his tracks by something large suddenly crashing off into the forest from in front of him, followed by an eerie silence. He froze in place and fell silent, instinctively reaching for his sword. When his hand grabbed at air where the pommel of his greatsword should be, he let out an angry curse.

“Kaffas!”

In his haste to leave, he hadn’t even thought to pick up his sword along the way. He stood stock-still in the dark forest listening; the only sound he could hear was that of his measured breathing. At this time of night not many animals usually stirred, only the odd scurrying rodent or crickets perhaps, but even those were still tonight. He stood frozen in place trying to pick up any unusual sounds or movement, to work out what he’d just heard. 

Nothing. 

Fenris turned to look over his shoulder, back toward the way he’d come; no one seemed to have followed him out here. Good, he thought, he was not in the right state of mind for talking at the moment anyway. After waiting a moment longer and still hearing nothing, he heaved a great sigh, relaxing his tense muscles; tonight really had taken a turn for the worst. 

Fenris continued walking, persevering with the way he’d been going. He picked his way through the brush a little more carefully now though, eyes darting this way and that into the darkness around him. A short distance away he came across a fallen tree crossing his path and sat down on it. Here was as good a place as any to brood for a time, he decided. Perhaps he would stay here until morning, and then decide if he would return to the group.

___

Not a few minutes later, the same crashing sound broke the silence around him abruptly, and startled the elf from his brooding. This time the sound grew rapidly louder as it barrelled towards him. Fenris quickly rolled to the side to duck beside the log, catching the glint of a blade in the moonlight as he took cover. He heard the distinct sound of metal hitting wood above his head as the blade narrowly missed him. Swearing once more, he felt the lyrium suddenly burst to life beneath his skin, the glow of his markings now conveniently lighting up his immediate surroundings. 

Fenris jumped back from the log into a defensive stance. On the other side of the log, where he had just been stretched out, he spotted a similar creature to what he’d encountered during the last battles. Its skin was red from lyrium corruption, and crystals sprouted from its shoulders. Each of its arms appeared to end in two wicked looking blades, as Fenris had suspected last time one had attacked him. Just as quickly as it had appeared, the shadow vanished into the thicket once more, and silence fell in the forest. Fenris froze, his eyes flicking all around him as he waited for the inevitable next attack. This wasn’t going to be easy without his sword; how was he supposed to battle a shadow in darkness? He growled at his own stupidity for storming off unprotected. 

Fenris began to inch back slowly the way he’d come; his decision to flee into a red Templar infested forest now seemed like a terrible idea. Hawke suddenly came to mind, and he hoped the mage hadn’t followed him out here alone. The glow of the lyrium in his skin made his quiet retreat almost completely pointless; he was practically a beacon to the shadow that hunted him now. 

Out of nowhere from behind, a sudden rush of sound and the familiar pain of a blade cut into his side, before disappearing once more. The warm sensation of his own blood started to seep down his side and into his pants. He stifled a cry of pain, replacing it with an angry growl instead, as he bent over to clutch at the fresh wound with his forearm. He resisted the urge to scream out for Hawke, not wanting to be responsible for putting the mage at risk if he answered. 

Was this how it was going to end for him? His body found by his lover; cut down unarmed and alone in a forest. Fenris hated himself at that moment; if he had just given Hawke a chance to explain, perhaps he’d still be back at the camp now, not fighting an invisible enemy unarmed. 

He wasn’t sure how many times he turned circles, trying in vain to cover his blind sides, but eventually another attack was rained down on him. Blades from both sides suddenly struck out at him from the darkness, giving him barely enough time to react as he saw the figures illuminated in the light of his lyrium glow. He managed to dodge one, while the other shadow cut him high on his thigh from behind. There was two of them, he realised then, and let out a helpless frustrated groan. This was not going to end well. 

To Fenris’ annoyance, the shadows never engaged in combat long enough for him to retaliate, relying on the element of surprise alone to execute their attacks. Perhaps if he could get a hold of one long enough to use his abilities, he might be able to take one out at least. With that in mind he stopped dead in his tracks, dropping back into a defensive stance, and waited. He clinched his fists, channelling all the energy he could muster into the power he felt surging in the lyrium veins of his hands.

Fenris didn’t need to wait long. One of the shadows immerged suddenly, this time directly in front of him; its dagger-arms held high as it charged in for the final blow. With his lyrium ablaze, Fenris ghosted to one side. He managed to evade its attack, and reached around the shadow with enhanced speed to grip its crystal corrupted shoulders; no time to be cautious now. The creature screamed as it realised what had happened and Fenris threw one blazing fist back, to follow through with a powerful punch to the back of the shadow’s chest, his voice ringing out in a loud cry of effort. Rather than merely striking skin and bone, his lyrium infused fist penetrated though the creature’s ribs and into its chest cavity. Gripping at any vital organs he could find, the elf pulled his fist back with equal speed. The shadow let out one final screech of pain and terror, before it fell slack and Fenris released his grip on it. The dead weight collapsed at his feet, making a disturbing thud as it hit the ground. Heaving from the effort, he stood and glared at the corpse, tossing the gore in his hand onto the pile of lifeless flesh. 

Adrenaline still racing through his veins, Fenris had forgotten about the ever increasing bloody patch spreading over his injured side and thigh. The pain from the wounds had also been pushed out of his mind for the time, as his body fought to survive the immediate threat. Having been single-mindedly focused on eliminating his enemies, Fenris hadn’t noticed the sound of running feet approaching from the direction he’d come from. He suddenly spun around to see Hawke approaching at a run from within the forest. The mage held his staff high, the crystal already glowing and prepared for battle; he’d obviously heard the fighting and had come to his lover’s aid.

“Hawke, STOP!!” Fenris held up a hand at Hawke, the urgency in his tone thankfully causing the mage to skid to a sudden stop. 

Hawke was completely alone, just has Fenris had dreaded. The mage’s eyes immediately dropped to the corpse at Fenris’ feet, and he instinctively crouched into a defensive position, eyes growing wide as he realised the gravity of the situation they were in.

“How many are there, Fenris?”

Fenris spun back around; desperately seeking out the other shadow that he knew would be lurking nearby somewhere, waiting for its chance.

“I have seen one more, but I cannot be sure.”

He heard Hawke curse behind him, the tone sounding more concerned than it normally would.

“No one else is coming, I told them not to follow… I’m sorry, Fenris.” His words took on an air of helplessness.

“Be quiet, Hawke!” Fenris hissed at him as he turned back to face the mage. With the brief respite from the attack, the pain in Fenris’ side suddenly drew his attention once more, and he tucked his arm against it tightly with a grimace.

“You’re hurt… Fenris let-” Hawke began to move forward toward the elf, wanting to offer aid.

“Hawke… Not now!”

Just then, Fenris caught a sudden flicker of movement from just behind Hawke. Without thinking he rushed blindly towards it, fists already clenching for another attack.

“HAWKE, BEHIND YOU!!”

Hawke didn’t miss a beat; with a quick motion of his hand, Fenris felt the familiar protection from Hawke’s magic wash over him as he dove towards them. After first ensuring the safety of his lover, Hawke finally spun around to face his attacker. Having used vital seconds to cast his spell on Fenris, Hawke struggled to hold his staff out in front of him in time. Nevertheless, a stream of fireballs erupted from the staff’s crystal in quick procession, to rain down on the shadow. The creature attempted to dodge the onslaught, but a few fiery balls still hit their target, which seemed to have little effect on its advance. Fenris saw the shadow quickly recover and it leapt the final distance to attack Hawke. 

Having been much further from Hawke than the shadow was, Fenris knew he would never make it there in time. Hawke tried desperately to cast another spell, but Fenris watched in horror as the shadow came down on top of the mage. The elf’s heart almost stopped as he heard the howl of pain erupt from Hawke’s mouth as one of the shadow’s blades sank deep into his lover’s chest, bringing him down to the ground beneath its force.

Fenris arrived seconds later, fists flaming blue in blind-rage… 

___

In a matter of seconds it was over. Fenris found himself standing over the second shadow, this one decidedly more dismembered than the last; his mindless rage having left him with no memory at all of the short battle. Heaving with pain and effort, Fenris stood in silence looking down at the pile of flesh at his feet; he snarled in frustration at it, but relieved that the threat was finally gone. 

His attention was suddenly drawn back to the present and to another figure on the ground beside his feet. Short gurgling gasps were coming from his lips and his eyes were staring eerily up at nothing.

The grisly image of Hawke being taken down by the shadow suddenly came back to Fenris in full force. 

“Hawke…. NO!!” 

Fenris immediately dropped to the Hawke’s side, gripping his shoulders desperately as he looked down into his eyes. 

“Markus?” 

Fenris gave the mage’s shoulders a shake, trying to gain some sort of response. A small amount of blood bubbled out up from the mage’s lips with each breath he took, and his skin was a ghastly white. 

“Oh no!… No, no, no, no, Markus!! Look at me, please.” 

Fenris pleaded with him helplessly, he could feel his hands beginning to shake as he realised how dire the situation had suddenly become. The elf continued to shake the mage’s shoulders lightly, moving to hover into the man’s line of sight. Hawke’s eyes continued to stare up unseeing, not even registering his lover’s face. 

The mage lay very still beneath Fenris, his hand still lightly clutching at the staff that lay dormant at his side. Without Hawke’s abilities to heal, Fenris was completely helpless, not even a potion to offer or bandage to use on his wounds. The elf stroked at Hawke’s cheek fearfully, continuing to hover over him with a terrified look on his face. Observing the deathly gaze on Hawke’s face, he realised he had no idea what to do now; he was going to lose him. This was finally it. 

“Tell me what to do, Markus?! Please…”

He feebly gave Hawke’s shoulders another frustrated shake, becoming increasingly agitated at the hopelessness of the situation. Fenris frantically started searching over Hawke’s body for the wound that had caused all this. Hawke’s armour had been almost spotless after the first day of battles, but the clothing he wore now was thick with his own blood. A devastating puncture wound to his chest spewed fresh blood freely over his shirt and the dead leaves beneath him. Fenris suddenly came to his senses and immediately pressed both his hands to the wound, desperately trying to stem the flow of blood that continued to pool around them. The pressure to his chest caused a fresh gush of blood to spill from the mage’s lips, and caused a cry of agony from the elf.

“No! Please, Markus, not now… NOT TODAY!! You promised me…” Fenris tried to stifle the sob that threatened to escape his lips, but failed miserably. “I’m so sorry…”

A rush of tears finally spilt from the elf’s eyes as he continued desperately to save his lover’s life. He had seen that look on Hawke’s face before, the look of death just before a person finally took their last breaths. Fenris moved his hands back to Hawke’s face, gripping it tightly as he pressed his forehead to the mage’s and openly sobbed. The elf’s cries of anguish were the only sounds in the forest now, the moon the only source of light once his battle glow had subsided.

Would this be the last time he’d ever look into Hawke’s eyes? Those green eyes he’d so loved, now unseeing and lifeless. Was this how it would end? 

This was all his fault; he would never forgive himself if Hawke died here tonight. Fenris suddenly jumped up in a last ditch effort to help the mage.

“HELP!!! SOMEONE!!” The hopeless sobs of anguish that were coming regularly now were the only thing that stopped him between yells for help. 

Fenris called out loudly into the otherwise quiet forest, his own wounds completely forgotten as he turned circles aimlessly, looking for anyone who might be able to help. 

“Varric, please!! ANYONE!! FIONA!!”

Physically and emotionally exhausted, the elf bent over to rest his hands on his knees, breathing heavily between sobs. He turned back to Hawke who still lay motionless on the ground, the scene was becoming surreal to him now; surely this couldn’t be how it ended for them? 

The mage’s condition certainly hadn’t improved; if anything it was growing more grave, his breaths becoming weaker and slower.

“Please, Markus, just wait!” He cried at Hawke desperately.

Fenris stood fixed in place for a moment, conflicted about what to do next. If he ran back to the camp, he could possibly bring back help for Hawke. But what if help was no longer possible? He would be leaving his lover, his Markus, in the forest to die alone. Fenris immediately slipped down beside Hawke once more, reaching down to cradle his face lovingly with a sob of defeat.

“Please, not like this, Markus. Please.” Fenris draped himself over the motionless mage, pressing his lips lightly to Hawke’s slack mouth; he hoped to the Marker it wouldn’t be a goodbye kiss. 

He could taste Hawke’s blood in his mouth but he didn’t care. If Hawke was going to die here tonight, Fenris couldn’t leave him to face that alone. The elf rested his cheek to Hawke’s, the bristly hair much longer now than normal, and closed his eyes against the tears. He clung to his lover’s bloodstained shirt, his sobs finally turning into silent cries of acceptance. Fenris listened to the mage’s ever weakening breaths, and waited for it to finally be over.

The special moment they’d shared in the tent before the battle came to Fenris then, and he couldn’t stop the sob that burst forth from his lips at the memory. He thought of the teasing comments from Hawke, not a few hours before, and the way they’re laughed together. The secret kisses they’d shared, the stolen moments of affection… Memories; was that all he’d have of Hawke now?

“But you said this wouldn’t be goodbye…” Desperation was evident in the elf’s soft voice, but he choked back another sob. “I’m so sorry, my love. Please forgive me. I promise we’ll be together again soon.”

Waiting for the inevitable, Fenris caught wind of the fainted whisper from the mage’s lips. It was so soft and masked by his raspy breaths that Fenris almost didn’t hear it over his own sobs.

“…love you…”


	10. In Good Hands

With each passing minute, Hawke’s breathing sounded increasingly more obstructed from the blood building up in his chest. Fenris gripped his limp body closer to his chest, not willing to believe that the whispered words would be his last, or to hope that they were anything more.

“Move please.” A calm, unfamiliar voice suddenly interrupted the elf’s sorrowful farewell. 

Fenris lifted his head, looking behind him through tears at the three figures who had managed to approach without him noticing. It was the Tevinter mage, Dorian, who spoke. 

He held his glowing purple staff loosely at his side as he looked down at the scene, eyes casting over the grisly corpses before finally resting on Hawke, still cradled in Fenris’ arms. A concerned frown immediately crossed his handsome features as he realised the state of his fellow mage. Iron Bull, the large qunari, stood behind him, Fenris noticed then, and Varric beside him. The look that also crossed the dwarf’s face at that moment could only be described as horror.

“Move now!” Dorian’s tone was suddenly urgent as he stepped toward Fenris, reaching down toward Hawke as if to offer aid. 

“Don’t TOUCH him!!” Fenris all but growled at the approaching mage, holding a hand out to fend him off, the threatening glow of lyrium immediately burning to life in his palm. He held Hawke’s body tighter to his chest protectively, “Keep your filthy hands off him, mage!!”

“Fenris…” Varric’s voice was softer, more understanding, as he rushed forward to push the elf’s glowing hand aside carelessly. He slid to his knees beside Fenris. “Please, Fenris, let Dorian help.” The dwarf’s voice was pleading, and he gripped on to Fenris’ blood stained shirt desperately.

Fenris drew his eyes from Dorian, who had known better than to ignore Fenris’ warning, and looked at Varric. The distort look on the dwarf’s face gave Fenris pause in his fury, his eyes shifting back to Hawke, still deathly pale and clinging to life in his arms. 

“I don’t want him touching Markus…” There was no conviction in Fenris’ words; he felt defeated, like his life was suddenly slipping from between his fingers along with Hawke. “Varric… Not like this, please…” He all but begged the dwarf; the deep despair laid bare on Fenris’ face had already brought forth a steady stream of tears from Varric’s eyes. 

“Please let him try, Fenris.” Varric pushed at Fenris, trying to break the hold he had on the mage to help him lower their dying companion back to the ground gently. 

Fenris clung to Hawke’s bloodied shirt as long as he could, before he finally allowed himself to be pulled away by the dwarf. Once free, the elf immediately stood and turned the intensity of his emotions back onto Dorian. He thrust himself angrily at the mage and growled threateningly, inches from his face.

“Watch yourself, ~mage~!” Fenris all but spat the words at him, pressing a still glowing finger into the man’s chest firmly; a warning he hoped the mage could feel. 

Dorian turned his face aside with a flinch, but he stood his ground; had it been at any other time or by any other person, Fenris might have been impressed by his mettle. Iron Bull, who had been standing silently behind him, suddenly came to life and stepped forward with a growl to protect his threatened companion. Dorian reached a hand out to rest on the horned man’s arm; stopping him in this tracks. Perhaps Dorian understood the nature of Fenris’ anger towards him, or at the very least, he respected his right to it. The mage took half a step back and turned his eyes back to Fenris, who was still seething in front of him, eyes red from crying.

“I can’t possibly make this situation worse, can I?” Dorian’s tone had softened, able to see the anguish in the elf’s eyes that his anger was doing a bad job of masking. Fenris lowered his finger reluctantly and stepped aside. “Thank you…” Dorian offered quickly, as he stepped around Fenris and slid down beside the fallen mage. 

Fenris turned his attention back to Hawke then, his anger immediately dissipating. The grief that washed over him anew caused him to collapse to his knees helplessly as he watched on in defeat. Fenris felt Varric move in beside him, and the dwarf rested his hand on his shoulder tentatively, in a silent show of support.

Dorian set his staff beside the motionless mage, and immediately placed both of his hands on either side of Hawke’s chest, closing his eyes. A frown creased his brow as he concentrated, and he shook his head in frustration.

“Fasta vass! I don’t think I can fix this!”

Despite his words Dorian pressed on all the same, his hands beginning to take on a faint green glow as he channelled his energy into trying to heal Hawke; mumbling incarnations quietly and becoming completely oblivious to his surroundings. Iron Bull moved to kneel beside Dorian quietly, merely offering his presence to the mage as encouragement, but he dared not interrupt. 

Fenris watched on intently as the soft green glow spread from Dorian’s hands over Hawke’s still motionless body. The mage stopped a few times to let out a curse in Tevene and wipe his brow before he dove back into his task; he was becoming increasingly frustrated with his lack of progress, a feeling to which Fenris could certainly relate. 

Fenris arose at some point and proceeded to pace back and forth behind the mage, becoming increasingly agitated at the amount of time that had passed with little results. The fact that Hawke continued to breathe, however, was not lost on him and he thanked whatever gods would listen. 

Iron Bull eventually had enough of the elf’s incessant pacing and suddenly stood, snatching Fenris up by the bloody scruff of his shirt. He pulled the much smaller man in close to his face and sneered at him.

“If you don’t stop now, he’s going to have two to work on!” Fenris shoved off angrily from Iron Bull with a growl, but said nothing as he forced himself to sit down with a sullen expression. 

Fenris couldn’t relax; not without knowing what was happening to Hawke, and Dorian gave him no indication if anything he was doing was helping. Through all this the dwarf merely kneeled quietly beside Hawke, ignoring everyone else. Fenris wondered if he was praying to the Maker as the mage continued to work. 

___

Fenris lost track of how long Dorian worked on Hawke. Eventually the mage sat back with a heavy sign of finality and bowed his head in exhaustion. Fenris’ eyes widened and he immediately rushed forward to be at his lover’s side once more. The elf’s eyes frantically searched over his body for any sign that the mage had succeeded in his healing attempt; the horrid gurgling sound appeared to be mostly gone now, but his breathing was no stronger or more regular. Dorian meanwhile rolled onto his back, a look of depletion on his face. 

Fenris suddenly snapped his eyes to Dorian, growling in annoyance when he felt none the wiser about Hawke’s condition.

“Well?! What did you do?!”

Dorian made no effort to move, obviously completely spent from his efforts. As he lay still on the forest floor, Iron Bull moved to his side and bent down beside him. With his enormous arms, he scooped the mage up gently, like he might a sleeping child. 

“How do you feel, Kadan?” The qunari’s voice was softer than Fenris thought possible, with obvious concern and affection for the mage.

Dorian didn’t protest being lifted, but wrapped one arm behind the qunari’s neck as he smiled faintly up at him.

“I’ll be fine after some rest, Amatus.” Dorian finally turned his attention down to Fenris, who was once more clutching at Hawke helplessly and impatiently glaring at Dorian for a response.

“He’s alive, but I don’t specialise in healing, Fenris; there’s nothing more I can do. Carry him to camp so the others can see to him further.”

Fenris immediately turned his attention back to Hawke; was it possible that this wasn’t going to happen tonight after all? He didn’t want to hope just yet, but he couldn’t stop the sob of relief that escaped his mouth. 

Varric was at his side suddenly and rested a hand on his shoulder, his tone one of urgency.

“Let’s go, Fenris, quickly; let’s get him to Fiona and the others.”

___

After yelling over how best to carry Hawke, Varric and Fenris managed to awkwardly carry the mage back to camp. The amount of time it took was agonising to Fenris, and he constantly cast distressed looks down at his lover as they shared his weight through the endless journey back to camp. The pale colour of his skin certainly did nothing to reassure Fenris that Hawke would pull through after all this; he looked horrendous. His skin was also cool to touch, but his breathing seemed to have settled into a more normal rhythm. Varric tried to offer soft words of encouragement to Fenris as they struggled to carry the heavy mage through the dark forest, but the expression of concern on his face mimicked that of the elf’s.

As they finally neared the camp, two burly chevaliers suddenly joined the tired pair and relieved them of Hawke’s weight, ignoring Fenris’ feeble cries of protest. They disappeared with Hawke, leaving Fenris and Varric to walk back alone through the darkness. With the relief of finally getting Hawke back to camp alive, Fenris’ emotions finally took their toll on him once more and he collapsed in a defeated heap to the dead leaves of the forest floor. Through all this he’d ignored his own injuries completely, and the pain of them both suddenly returned to hit him in full force, causing hi to cry out in agony. 

Varric stopped immediately and turned back to help the elf.

“Fenris? We’re almost there… Take my hand.” He felt Varric touch his shoulder, offering to help him stand once more. “Come on, Broody, you need healing too; that’s a lot of blood.”

“No… They need to heal Hawke.”

Fenris’ clothing was almost completely covered in blood, and there was no doubt that large amounts belonged to his lover, but the torn shirt did not hide the wound still seeping blood beneath it. Varric made no comment to Fenris’ protest but continued to encourage the elf to stand. Having dealt with the intense emotions of the last few hours, Fenris had transitioned into a state of complete numbness; all urgency and feeling no longer seemed to matter.

“Just leave me, Varric.”

“Not a chance, Broody. Get up, come on!” Varric bent down and physically lifted the elf to his feet with a grunt of effort. Fenris merely groaned in annoyance. “Now walk! I can’t carry you.” Varric pushed the elf onward from behind, who made no effort to resist. 

Fenris silently allowed himself to be manoeuvred back to the camp site by the dwarf; on any other night it might have been a comical scene to behold, but tonight the mood was anything but. When Fenris and Varric finally entered the dimly lit campsite, a scene of organised chaos met them. There was a small gathering of three mages close by the fire, and Fenris presumed Hawke was likely in their midst. Fiona was there, along with Morrigan, who must have arrived when the Inquisitor had, and the bald elven man. Fenris could make out a bedroll that they’d laid out for their patient, and numerous healing supplies were scattered about them already. 

The two chevaliers that had taken Hawke from them stood nearby watching, as did the Inquisitor, Cassandra and Cullen. The rest of their group were milling further away, trying to respectfully stay out of the way, but they were all watching now that they’d been disturbed from their rest. Surprisingly, Cole was also present, but he sat the furthest from the scene, watching from beneath his hat just outside the ring of fire light. 

Fenris turned his attention back to where they worked on Hawke. The sight of him lying motionless at the mercy of the other mages gave Fenris the sudden urge to once more be at his side, and the elf rushed forward. He was swiftly intercepted by Cassandra and Cullen, however, the warriors both blocking his way. Cullen reached out to grip his shoulder firmly, and Fenris tried in vain to push by without any real strength. He slumped against the Commander’s side as he stared past him to Hawke longingly.

“There’s nothing you can do there, let them work on him unhindered.” Cullen’s voice was sympathetic as he took the collapsed elf’s weight, supporting him there. The tight grip of his hand told Fenris he wasn’t going to be allowed past without a physical confrontation; he was too exhausted to fight.

“…I need to be with him.” The anguish he felt was evident in his tone.

“Fenris, they need to work without distraction, you will only prevent them. I know you don’t want that.” It was Cassandra this time, trying to offer a voice of reason. “You need healing too… Go with Varric.” 

The dwarf was at his side again, and Cullen gave Fenris a gentle shove of encouragement to stand on his own. Varric took a hold of Fenris’ wrist then and commenced tugging him toward the fire. 

“Seeker, could you bring us some potions and bandages, please?”

“Of course, Varric.”

Fenris found himself being led to the campfire and forced to sit on someone’s bedroll. With his eyes still fixed on Hawke, Varric forced him to lie down then proceeded to sit in the elf’s line of sight to draw his attention away from the distressing scene. 

“He’s in good hands now, Broody. Time to focus on dealing with your own injuries.”

Fenris offered no response to his words, but turned his head to stare directly above him at the night sky, the light of the camp fire close by drowned out any view of the stars that were likely there. Fenris shut his eyes tight, covering his face with one arm as a great renewed sob of despair broke forth from his mouth, and he wept openly in front of the dwarf. His shoulders heaved from the effort; he didn’t care anymore if the others witnessed his break down. He had almost lost Hawke, and he possibly still could. If this was how it felt to be faced with a life without his Hawke, he didn’t want anything to do with it. 

He felt Varric lean in and hug him awkwardly from where he’d been sitting, a gesture he would normally protest. But tonight Fenris felt a small amount of comfort from it and even wrapped his spare arm around the dwarf tightly in return. Somehow, knowing that Varric was suffering almost as much as he was, made him feel less alone in his agony.

___

The rest of the night until dawn was mostly a blur to Fenris. He’d dozed off from exhaustion on more than one occasion, and awoke numerous times to find various people fussing over him. At one time Cassandra was washing the blood from his face and hands, and then proceeded to force him to drink healing potions; another time he was being relieved of his bloody clothing by Fiona; and another he awoke to find his wounds completely bandaged. Each time he found a mage tending to him, he’d scowled at them to leave him be and focus on Hawke, who clearly needed their attention more. The pain of his injuries was still acute now, and fresh blood appeared to have soaked through the bandages during the night, so it was clear that, for once, the mages had listened to him and saved their energies for Hawke; he felt relieved, despite his own condition. Fenris would live, with or without their healing. 

The final time he awoke, Fenris noticed that dawn was approaching; the sky now finally lightening once more, with the rare bird song calling out over the camp site. Fenris pushed himself up slowly, realising how sore his muscles were now that he’d rested for a time. He was still shirtless, though someone had covered him thoughtfully with a blanket through the night. He flinched noticeably as he sat up, and gripped at his side where the worst of his injuries was. He pulled his hand away from the bandage and it still came back tinged with fresh blood.

“You need proper healing, Broody. You were thrashing all night.”

Fenris looked behind him at the dwarf, who appeared to be wide awake.

“Have you even slept, Varric?”

“Couldn’t…”

Fenris nodded in understanding; had he not been exhausted from the fight and the torment of trying to save Hawke’s life, he was sure he wouldn’t have slept either. Fenris scanned the campsite quickly, which was now quieter than when they’d first returned with Hawke. The chevaliers and Cullen’s soldiers were still lying around on bedrolls; half of them slept whilst the others just refused to acknowledge they were already awake. Cullen was sitting on the other side of the fire with Iron Bull, both men conversing quietly against a log. Dorian was also there, still appearing to be quite drained from his efforts the previous night, and lay with his head propped up against the qunari’s thigh. He appeared to be in silent thought with his eyes gazing off into the forest. 

With Cole missing once again, the only other group was found right where Hawke had been tended to the night before. Fenris dared to finally look in his direction, scared of what he might find there. Morrigan, Fiona and the elven man were still all present, with the Inquisitor and Cassandra now also sitting amongst them; none of them spoke. Fiona appeared to still be working on Hawke, she looked the most drained of the three, while Morrigan and the elven man were merely observing her efforts. From across the fire Fenris was unable to make out how Hawke looked, but it was clear he was still motionless. He decided that the lack of news from those working on him was a good thing; surely he would have been notified if Hawke had died. 

The elven man caught Fenris’ concerned gaze as he looked over. After a quiet word to the others, he stood up and began to walk toward Fenris and Varric, staff in hand. 

“Hello, I suspect you have questions concerning your friend’s condition.” The elf spoke in a formal tone, sounding wise beyond his years. He seemed to direct the statement toward both Fenris and Varric, who each turned their attention to him, seeming anxious at the pending news. “We have done all we can for now. Fiona, especially, has worked tirelessly through the night to encourage Hawke’s body to heal itself. It has left both her and your friend very weak.” The mage stood looking down at them both calmly as he leant his weight on the staff. “If you would like to sit with him now, you are welcome to.” He motioned with an inviting hand toward Hawke.

Fenris followed his gesture to look toward his wounded lover once more. He wanted more than anything to rush to his side, but he hesitated. His sudden reluctance to approach Hawke left a heavy feeling in his chest. The previous night he’d wanted nothing more than to sit at his side through it all, but now he couldn’t bring himself to even move; he felt ashamed, it was all his fault. 

As if sensing the elf’s hesitation, the mage interrupted his thoughts.

“Varric, perhaps you could give us a moment? I need to speak with Fenris privately.”

“Of course, Chuckles. And thank you.” Taking the hint, Varric stood up and patted Fenris on the shoulder as he passed, walking slowly toward where Hawke lay; he too seemed reluctant, though probably for different reasons.

Fenris saw those around Hawke slowly stand to give the dwarf some privacy with his friend. As they vacated the area, Fenris could see that a blanket had also covered Hawke to his chin and a pile of used bloodied bandages and clothing lay discarded beside him, along with numerous empty potion bottles scattered about. Hawke’s skin still hadn’t returned to its usual colour, but now he looked merely like someone sleeping. 

“He will live.” The mage offered Fenris softly, as he continued to stare after his lover. 

Fenris finally turned to look up at the other elf, an overwhelming sense of relief washing over him; it was almost too good to be true.

“Are you sure?”

“I am sure, yes.”

Fenris bowed his head and let out a pained breath of relief, as if he’d been holding his breath the entire night. 

“Thank you, you have no idea how much-” Fenris had to cut himself off, fearing that the relief the mage’s words had given him, might cause him to break down once more.

“I understand, and you are welcome, though I alone did not heal him. You should thank Dorian and Fiona; their efforts were the most crucial to his survival.”

As Solas’ words sank in, Fenris knew he was right; he would have to swallow his pride and thank Dorian, a Tevinter mage. While he did not know the man well enough to trust him, he wondered if he had jumped to conclusions a little early. These other people, who seemed respectable enough, had no problem with his company; perhaps Fenris should have given him the benefit of the doubt for once. It was not a lesson Fenris hadn’t already learned from Hawke in the past, but he always had a lot of trouble accepting it. It was not going to be easy to approach Dorian now, after how much of a fool he’d been last night, and how much trouble and pain his stupidity had caused those around him, including Hawke. 

The mage was quiet for a time, just watching Fenris as he brooded about the tasks he would have to face; he seemed a broken man. 

“If I may offer some advice?” He didn’t wait for a response, “I do not know Dorian well, but he is well liked by most of the Inquisition, including my-… Including Inquisitor Lavellan. Approach him soon and I dare say that he will be receptive to your thanks; or your apology, if you choose to offer one.” 

“What makes you think I need to apologise for anything?” Fenris glanced up at the mage.

Solas gave him a faint sympathetic smile.

“It is a small camp.”

Fenris grimaced and shook his head; so everyone knew the details already. He made no further comment to the mage’s advice, though he appreciated his attempted effort to help in his unpleasant task. 

“Now, are you well enough to walk with me?” The mage leaned on his staff as he waited for Fenris’ response, seeming relaxed for time. “I can offer you healing along the way.”

Fenris finally lifted his head fully to meet the other elf’s gaze; he had an oddly calm air about him, and his eyes appeared both inquisitive and perceptive. Fenris felt inclined to take him up on the offer, feeling comfortable in his company more quickly than he normally might. Fenris nodded to the offer and sighed finally as he carefully pushed himself up to stand. 

“Where are we going?”

“Merely away from the campsite. I discovered a stream nearby; I suspect you would welcome a change in scenery, no? And you can give Varric some time with his friend.”

Fenris nodded, casting one last look toward Hawke. Varric was crouched beside him now, talking quietly to the sleeping mage; the sight was depressing and Fenris was glad he had an escape.

“One with less people would be welcome.”

“Understandable. We will not be going far; your injuries should not hinder you.” The elf’s serious gaze broke into a brief smile and he nodded, beginning to lead the way out of camp. “I am Solas, by the way.”

“Ahh…” Fenris nodded at his introduction, recognising the name from Cole and some of the others who had mentioned the mage. 

“I see you have already heard the name then? Only good things, I hope.” He chuckled as he led Fenris into the dim forest, the dawn light making it increasingly easier to see which way they walked now.

“Neutral things.”

“Very well.”


	11. He Likes It

Solas led Fenris out of the campsite and into the dim forest. The birds filled the air with their unique songs, and the light from the rising sun was already beginning to cast speckled patterns on the trees and shrubs around them. It was hard to believe, in these peaceful surroundings, that there had been multiple battles close by the previous day, and that more enemy now lay in wait within the same forest. 

Fenris watched the other elf closely as he walked behind him; Solas seemed content to walk in silence, his gaze moving from the path in front of him, to the trees around them, and the sky above; a faint smile touching his lips.

Eventually, however, the mage paused to fall in line with Fenris.

“How do you feel this morning?”

“Sore.”

“And otherwise?”

Fenris cast a sidelong glance at the mage; he really didn’t feel like talking about this now, and certainly not with a stranger. 

“Why do you ask?”

“People often find comfort in sharing their burden with others.”

“I am not one of those people.”

“Very well then.”

Solas fell silent once more, needing no further convincing to stop prying; it surprised Fenris, as most people tried at least a few more times to talk him into opening up after he’d rejected them once. Perhaps he would come to like this Solas in the end. 

After only a short walk, Fenris began to hear the distinct sound of running water, and he found himself being led down a sharp embankment to a small stream. A small, yet beautiful waterfall trickled into the clear water from a short rock face a few yards away, with colourful plants growing between the rocks and down beside the bank of the stream. Fenris looked around at the peaceful scene with a sad smile, and wished Hawke could be present to enjoy it with him.

“Hawke would love this place…” Fenris mused to himself.

“It is a beautiful place; all of the Arbor Wilds are.”

Fenris turned to find the elf once more leaning on his staff as he casually watched Fenris at the water’s edge. 

“Why did you bring me here, Solas?”

“To offer you the healing you have previously rejected.” The mage walked down to join Fenris at the edge of the stream, taking a moment to appreciate the peaceful surroundings, before adding, “And to examine your wounds.”

“To examine them?” 

“Yes, for any trace of lyrium corruption. In truth, I was also curious to speak with you about your markings. I have never seen such a thing before, and it intrigued me. And since you have already confirmed that a change of scenery would benefit you, I thought a short outing might benefit us both.” 

Fenris’ first instinct was the sneer at the mage, but he forced his expression to remain calm; he was tired of mages being ‘intrigued’ by him. He tried to keep his words measured; Solas had helped Hawke, after all.

“Yes. Mages do find them intriguing.”

Solas appeared to pick up on Fenris’ stiff response, sparing an inquisitive sidelong glance at the other elf.

“Innocent curiosity, nothing more.” He offered in explanation, “There are many things I have yet to understand in this world, and I welcome the chance to be enlightened. If you do not wish to speak of your markings then I will simply remain ignorant, though not gladly.”

Fenris cast a similar sidelong look back at the mage, though his was marked with suspicion. Solas merely met the look with a faint, yet genuine smile before turning his attention once more to the tranquil scene before them. With the sun ever rising, its warm rays now well and truly lit the area and the feel of it on Fenris’ bare skin felt comforting. 

___

Fenris continued to watch Solas for a time, who was either oblivious to his scrutiny or was ignoring it. He appreciated the mage’s simple and sensible choice in clothing; he’d never understood the attraction of wearing uncomfortable and impractical clothing for the sake of appearance alone, especially in battle. That’s not to say Fenris didn’t care about his appearance, but practicality always came first when clothing and armour was concerned; clearly Solas felt the same way. That was another thing the two elves seemed to have in common, it made Fenris a little curious to see what else might reveal itself about this mage. 

“Very well…” Fenris finally sighed with reluctance as he agreed, a faint groan marking his acceptance. “But I would like to return to camp as soon as possible, I need to see Hawke.”

Solas turned back to Fenris then and nodded his gratitude, seeming pleased.

“Thank you, Fenris, it should not take long. First, please take a seat and let me see to your injuries.” He motioned to a large rock by the water’s edge. 

“I would prefer you save your energy for Hawke…”

“A kind suggestion, though there is nothing more we can offer your friend. Rest and time will see him through the rest of his recovery. Relief from pain is all a mage can offer from here on forth.”

Fenris gave Solas a sceptical look, but reluctantly moved to take a seat on the rock Solas had suggested. The mage’s referral to Hawke as merely his ‘friend’ irritated him somehow; Hawke was so much more than that.

“He is not just my friend…” He said stiffly.

“I know this.” Solas nodded, not seeming perturbed by the correction. “But I am a private person, Fenris, and I have seen the same quality in you. Would you prefer I referred to your relationship with him differently?”

Fenris busied himself with untying the bloodied bandage that covered his abdomen as he considered the mage’s words. He lifted his eyes briefly from his task to meet Solas’, and after some thought he shrugged.

“No, it just felt… inadequate.”

“Would any single word be adequate?” Solas offered the other elf a slight knowing smile, seeming to understand him better than most. 

“Probably not.”

___

Fenris slowly unravelled the bandages from his mid-section; the cloth stuck together in a sickly way from the blood that had soaked through. He tossed the fabric to the side once he’d removed it completely and lifted his arm to inspect his wound. Solas had moved in closer and knelt at his side, to similarly examine the wound. The injury, although several hours old now, still had the faintest hint of oozing blood, but the cut itself was clean. 

Solas reached out a hand, but before touching Fenris, his eyes rose to meet the elf’s, who had looked down to watch the mage closely.

“Do you mind?”

“Yes, but go ahead…”

Turning his attention back to the wound, the mage placed his hand over the injured flesh in its entirety, seeming unfazed by the blood that would inevitably transfer to his skin. 

At that moment, Cole suddenly appeared behind Solas and reached his hand out to rest on the mage’s shoulder. Fenris flinched at the abrupt appearance of the strange boy, but the sudden touch did not seem to startle Solas in the slightest; he must have grown accustomed to the boy’s interruptions.

“Hello, Cole.”

“Hello, Solas. Do you hear the music?”

“No, do you?”

Fenris arched a brow at the two as the conversation suddenly took a strange turn.

“No, it’s quiet.”

Solas nodded, seeming satisfied with Cole’s contribution. 

The mage closed his eyes as he kept his hand over Fenris’ wound, a similar sensation to Hawke’s healing spells began to tingle at his side then, but it was different somehow. The pain subsided almost instantly, and he could feel the stitching together of his flesh; the healing seeming to take place much more quickly than Hawke’s managed to. The warmth worked its way into his side, presumably following the path the blade had taken and a feeling of wellbeing travelled with it. Fenris couldn’t help but breath out a sigh of deep relief as the elf’s magic took away the discomfort he’d endured throughout the night, and the muscles of his abdomen finally relaxed; the feeling was divine, and it made him feel disloyal somehow.

Solas was certainly more skilled at healing than Hawke was, or perhaps he was more proficient with the use of magic in general; his touch was gentle, experienced, and his magic more refined. Comparing the two in such a way made Fenris feel dirty somehow.

“Thank you, Solas.” He said stiffly, drawing away from the mage’s touch slightly.

“He likes it. Too much, he thinks.” Cole offered.

Fenris felt his ears suddenly begin to burn with embarrassment, and he shot a seething look at Cole.

“I told you to stop that!”

Solas actually laughed lightly at the boy’s innocent observations, carefully removing his hand from Fenris’ wound, but continued to visually examine the scar that was now in its place. The mage was either oblivious to what Cole’s words could have implied, or he didn’t care.

“You are welcome, Fenris. And Cole means no harm.” 

“He may mean no harm, but that does not mean he causes none!” Fenris continued to glare at the boy, who seemed unmoved.

“Perhaps so, but no harm has been caused here.”

Fenris continued to glare at Cole, his eyes narrowed in resentment; he always managed to make Fenris feel like a fool. 

Fenris’ attention was suddenly drawn back to Solas, however. The mage brushed his thumb over the scar experimentally, like an artist might when examining a completed painting, but his finger happened to graze over one of Fenris’ lyrium veins in the process. 

The lyrium infused into his skin had always brought about varying degrees of discomfort when touched by others; but Fenris had thankfully grown accustomed to Hawke’s touch, to the point that the mage’s embrace was not physically unpleasant at all. In this instance, however, the lack of the anticipated discomfort from Solas’ touch was startling to him. The lyrium infused into his skin responded in an unfamiliar way; a pleasant tingling suddenly spread out over his skin from beneath the mage’s finger, something Fenris had never experienced before. He flinched at the strange sensation, taken completely by surprise.

“What did you do?!” Fenris drew away from the mage abruptly, a suspicious look in his eyes and accusation in his tone.

Solas frowned curiously at Fenris’ response, simply letting his hand drop to rest in his lap as he remained kneeling at his side.

“My apologies, did I hurt you? It was not my intention…” 

Fenris lifted his arm to inspect the scar and the lyrium lines that existed around it, as if Solas’ touch might have altered them somehow; nothing seemed out of place.

“Well, no. It just felt…. strange.” Fenris dropped his arm down once more, his suspicious gaze returning to the mage. 

“He liked it again.” Cole offered innocently.

Fenris suddenly turned from Solas to growl in frustration at Cole; his eyes glaring threats at the boy.

“Cole, go away! I do not want you talking for me!”

“You don’t talk for yourself.”

“Cole.” Solas intervened with a warning tone, recognising that the situation could quickly get out of hand, “That is not necessary, thank you.” Solas turned his full attention back to Fenris as he pushed himself up from the grass. “My apologies, Fenris, I will try not to touch another if it bothers you. May I see your other wound?”

With an icy glare still fixed on Cole, Fenris shook his head at the question.

“No, Solas, I’ve had enough of this! I’m walking back to camp. Thank you for the healing.” Fenris bit off his words angrily; he was fed up with being made to feel stupid and embarrassed, he wanted nothing more now than to be at Hawke’s side; he’d already been gone too long.

Solas responded in a measured tone, trying to combat the outburst with reason.

“I would advise allowing me to examine the other wound, Fenris; if it is corrupted from the red lyrium now may be your only chance to still deal with the infection, before it becomes systemic. There is no going back once that occurs.”

Fenris finally snapped a smouldering look at Solas, the anger still raw in his gaze. Solas’ calm exterior didn’t falter, however, and he continued to look back at the other elf with a patient expression.

“Why do you even care, Solas?!” The question sounded accusing, as if the elven mage might have some ulterior motive.

“Why does anyone try to limit or end suffering?”

Fenris scowled as the mage answered with another question; he found that sort of response patronising. 

Fenris stood glaring at the pair, Cole still standing silently behind Solas; it was hard to tell he was listening to the conversation or not. He hated that Solas was right, and he felt like he had no option but to swallow his pride now and concede to his suggestion, when all he wanted to do was storm off. He knew he was being stupid again; walking off wouldn’t hurt anyone but himself in this case. He really should put an end to his sudden departures; they had never led to anything good in the past.

___

Fenris abruptly began untying the draw strings of his pants with a huff, a look of annoyance never leaving his face. He knew he should feel grateful for the mage’s concern, but he couldn’t help the rage he felt toward Cole’s observations and at being kept from Hawke for so long. He tugged his blood stained pants down just enough to reveal the large gash to the back of his thigh, leaving his small clothes in place. Feeling suddenly bashful in his precarious state of undress in front of strangers, he turned his back to reveal the wound to them.

Without another word, Solas moved in to crouch behind Fenris, peering closely once more at the wound which ran horizontally across the back of his leg. Ignoring the tense situation around him, the mage smoothly returned the conversation back to the problem at hand.

“Hmm… This wound actually cuts through several of your lyrium veins. Does it feel different?”

“No, not that I’ve noticed.” Fenris tried to soften his tone, but he could feel himself becoming increasingly impatient. “Can you please just heal it so I can dress?”

Solas seemed to ignore the elf’s impatience, adding no urgency to his actions.

“Well, I apologise in advance if my touch… irritates them, Fenris, but I cannot avoid touching them this time.” Without waiting for Fenris’ response or objection, Solas pressed his hand gently to the wound. 

As the mage’s skin pressed more firmly to the lyrium markings this time, Fenris bit on the inside of this cheek in anticipation and turned his face aside. Enticing warmth suddenly followed the path the lyrium took beneath his skin, originating from where Solas’ hands touched the markings. The tingling he’d felt earlier also returned to make its way up and down his leg. The unfamiliar sensations left behind an overall feeling of delight that he couldn’t quite describe. While the sensation was innocently pleasant for the moment, his thoughts naturally progressed to considering how the feeling might enhance a more intimate encounter with someone like Solas. While Hawke’s touch was far from uncomfortable on his body, this new feeling was far more than mere absence from displeasure; it was wonderful. 

The situation he’d found himself in was suddenly beginning to feel far too personal for Fenris, even intimate, and as his thoughts began to drift further to acknowledge that the elven mage was also an attractive man, Fenris abruptly cut his wonderings short. He groaned to himself in shame; he wanted no one else but Hawke, he was sure of that.

In the brief moment that the impure thoughts crossed Fenris’ mind he suddenly recalled who he was in company with. Fenris immediately cast another glare towards Cole, catching him in the process of just opening his mouth to speak.

“He thi-”

“COLE!! SHUT UP!” Fenris growled at the boy threateningly, holding up a glowing hand towards him to cut him off. “Just shut up! Not every thought needs to be spoken aloud! Fuck me!”

“He won’t.”

Fenris gave the boy’s response a brief look of confusion, before finally realising what he was referring to. He abruptly moved to pull his leg away from Solas, wanting nothing more than to lunge at the strange boy without thinking. Solas’ hand shot up in time to catch Fenris’ wrist, which was still wrapped in Hawke’s red token cloth; now also marred with blood from battle. The mage’s grip was surprisingly strong and he stood up to position himself between the pair, eyes fixed on Fenris and seeming unfazed by the intense anger he saw there. 

Solas’ tone remained calm.

“Fenris, please stand still. And Cole, please leave us now, you are no longer helping here.”

“I’m not? Sorry, Solas. Goodbye.” And with that, the boy simply wandered off into the forest once more, his gait as casual as it ever was. In his wake he left Fenris glaring after him. 

Fenris could feel his ears burning, both from embarrassment and rage, and he hoped desperately, to whatever gods might hear him, that Solas had not caught on to the meaning of Cole’s words. 

___

Thankfully, Solas made no indication that he had even been witness to the words that had been spoken before the confrontation, and simply changed the topic back to healing once more. 

“I suspect that this wound will need a little more than just simple healing; I fear that it is, in fact, corrupted, as I thought one might be. It is minor and currently still simple enough to remove, as it is isolated to the wound itself.” He let go of Fenris’ wrist, folding both his hands casually behind his back as he allowed the news to sink in. 

Solas’ grave words suddenly brought Fenris’ mind back to the more pressing issue, and the glare intended for Cole vanished. His eyes slowly widened incredulously, as the meaning of the mage’s word became apparent, and Fenris turned his gaze back to Solas, a look of concern in his eyes. 

“…what? It’s corrupted?!” 

“Why do you sound surprised? I was told you knew-”

“But you can remove it?” Fenris cut him short, feeling a sudden rush of panic, “… Then please remove it, quickly!” 

This could not be happening now; Fenris could not find out his Hawke was going to pull through after all, then be given the news that he would end up a mindless, raging lyrium monster. 

“Please…” Fenris added pleadingly in afterthought.

“Yes, it is minor and isolated for now. If the wound had been left unattended for longer, the corruption would almost certainly have progressed. As it is now, it is quite possible we can deal with it before that occurs. If you will allow me?”

“Of course!! What do you need to do?” Fenris’ tone and the volume of his voice made his concern clear. 

The idea of having his body slowly corrupted by the tainted lyrium, without him having any control over it, made his skin crawl. He needed it dealt with immediately.

“I think if I-”

“You think?! You just said it was simple!” Fenris couldn’t help but growl at the mage, quickly becoming frustrated with the situation.

“Fenris…” It was clear that Fenris’ panic and resulting anger was starting to grate on the mage’s nerves. He spoke more slowly, as if he was trying to pick his words carefully and control his tone. “From what I understand, it might be possible to physically remove the taint if it is minor, as I believe yours is. I say ‘I think’ because this is also the first time I have attempted such a feat, but I am confident I understand enough to achieve it. Now if you will please calm down enough so that I can attempt what I have offered without interruption…”

Fenris’ only response to the mage’s controlled words was a grunt of acceptance as he turned to look elsewhere, leaving Solas to his task. The mage continued talking, his words not necessarily directed at anyone but himself.

“In order to physically remove the corruption, I need to remove the flesh that has been tainted. Your wound was made with a sharp blade, Fenris, a blade of lyrium I presume? The wound merely needs cleaning out before I can heal it; so to speak. I would suggest not delaying healing in future.”

“Why was the other wound not corrupted?” Fenris tried hard to calm his nerves, content to attempt Hawke’s method of distraction with small talk, though he couldn’t think of anything ‘smaller’ to discuss right now.

“Perhaps because the other wound did not intersect your own lyrium; it makes sense that your markings make you more susceptible to the infection, yes?” As Fenris turned his gaze back the mage, Solas looked up to meet his eyes, a serious look crossing his face, “I would say you are lucky, in this case; had the other connected with the lyrium in your skin, I would not be in a position to help, given its location close to vital organs.”

Fenris frowned down at him, before breaking the gaze and staring off into the forest pensively; nothing about last night made him feel lucky. 

“What do you need me to do? I want this over with so I can return to Hawke.” 

Solas motioned to the ground between them, stepping back to give Fenris room. 

“I would suggest lying down. It will not take long, but it will not be comfortable for you.”

“Excellent…” Fenris replied drily. He kicked his pants off completely, letting them fall at his feet carelessly; he was beyond caring about his state of undress now and simply wanted this business over with. He was determined to be by Hawke’s side when the mage finally awoke; he could not allow his lover to wake up to someone else tending him, as if Fenris didn’t care. He lowered himself to the grass and shifted to get as comfortable as he could on his stomach. “Go ahead…”


	12. Consider it Forgotten

Solas laid his staff aside for the first time and came to kneel beside the prone elf. Nonchalantly slipping his hands gently over Fenris' wound once more, he pressed down firmly. Fenris could instantly feel the familiar tingling sensation from the mage’s hands, as it ran along the lyrium in his skin. Solas paused.

“Hmm…”

“What?”

“Where your wound cuts the markings, they glow red at the edges. It is… fascinating.”

“… I’m glad it intrigues you, Solas,” Fenris spoke with marked sarcasm. “Now remove it please.” Fenris' tone was terse; he was disinterested in being studied at a time like this. 

“Of course.”

Fenris could feel Solas move his hands to line the edge of the painful gash, and he immediately tensed, preparing for the pain Solas had eluded to. Despite being ready for it, Fenris realised quickly that nothing could have prepared him for the intensity of pain that rushed through his leg at that moment; it was probably good that Solas had down-played it, as he may never have agreed otherwise. 

A sudden fiery burn ripped through Fenris’ thigh, the strength of it swiftly wrecking agony throughout his body as the sickly slicing sensation cut through his leg anew. It was like nothing Fenris had ever experienced before; the sensation was similar to a blade cutting through flesh, but with a strange magical intensity that seared the muscle in the same instance. The force of it caused a tortured cry from Fenris’ mouth as his whole body tensed and contorted, fingers gripping at the ground beneath him in desperation for reprieve. The look of agony on the elf's face didn’t stop the mage, but caused him to press his weight down more firmly onto Fenris’ leg, trying to keep him from moving.

Thankfully, as Solas had promised, the pain didn't last long and it stopped as quickly as it had begun, but the intensity of it left Fenris panting in the aftermath.

___

“Oh, Kaffas…” Fenris breathed out in exasperation, covering his head with his arms as he struggled with the fresh memory of what he’d just endured.

Even with the pain gone, Fenris couldn’t force his muscles to relax, and he lay tense and quivering from shock as Solas continued to work on the wound. Without breaking his contact with Fenris’ skin, Solas slid his hands over the centre of the wound, and the former warm sensation suddenly eliminated all lingering effects of the burning that had just crippled him.   
Fenris breathed heavily into the grass beneath him, lying as still as possible as Solas channelled his final healing spells into the back of his thigh. With the much more welcome sensation of the healing magic still lingering in his leg, Solas finally removed his hands.

“I am sorry; unfortunately there is no pleasant method that I am aware of.” Solas offered apologetically.

Fenris lay very still as he tried to calm himself and force his body to relax; he never wanted to experience anything like that ever again. He wasn’t sure if he should thank the mage or leap up to attack him. Had anyone else caused him that amount of pain, the latter would certainly have been his only desire. But he forced his mind to remember the reason he’d had to endure it, and that the alternative was unthinkable; it was over now at least.

Fenris eventually rolled over and away from Solas, rubbing his face in one final attempt to recover from the ordeal. He left his face buried in the crock of his arm as he settled onto his back; he’d really had enough of these Arbor Wilds now.

“Thank you, Solas… I think.” Fenris tried to control his tone, though it wavered lightly as he spoke. He felt assaulted somehow, despite having given his consent to the mage. 

“The alternative would have been worse, so you are welcome.” 

___

Fenris lay this way for a time, trying to find some solace in the absence of pain. He could feel the sun on his torso now, and the light from it was obvious, even beneath closed eyelids. The soft trickle of running water nearby helped the elf’s nerves relax after his ordeal, but the memory of it lingered still.

Once calm, Fenris opened his eyes to find Solas sitting a short distance away, cross legged on the grass. He hadn’t heard anything from the mage while he lay there, he had almost considered that perhaps he had left Fenris to recover in solitude; but he sat there still, watching over the elf instead. With his staff cradled in his lap, he was intently studying Fenris; his eyes shifting to move over the prone elf’s body, his gaze clearly drawn to the lyrium markings that were now laid almost completely bare to him. Solas was content to observe from a respectful distance, at least, but his curious gaze still made Fenris feel suddenly exposed. 

Fenris sat up and began groping for his pants; had the mage been sitting there this whole time staring at him? He could already feel a blush returning to his ears, causing even further embarrassment. Noticing his discomfort, Solas turned his gaze aside and pushed himself up on his staff to stand.

“Welcome back. I apologise for my candid appraisal, Fenris, but you should not be embarrassed by your skin.”

“I am not embarrassed by my skin! I just don’t enjoy being stared at, especially in my small clothes and by a stranger. Most people at least try to hide it.” The anger that was never far away, sprang to life in Fenris’ voice as he busied himself with shaking out his crumbled and blood stiffened pants.

“Should I hide my curiosity? It also is not something to be ashamed of.”

“And if it makes others uncomfortable?” Fenris swiftly began pulling each leg of his pants back on, still seated on the ground. His head felt light from sitting up so suddenly, and he took a moment to close his eyes against it.

“Why are you uncomfortable? I find your markings fascinating, as I have not had the pleasure of seeing anything remotely like them before. I look forward to seeing you use them in battle once you have recovered. And… they are also beautiful; as if an artist has used your skin as their canvas. It is only natural that some would be intrigued by this.” He paused, turning back to the dressing elf, “Though sometimes I must be reminded that my scrutiny of others can be too personal at times. I apologise for that…” He seemed to notice Fenris' reaction to the dizziness then, “Are you feeling unwell?”

The way the mage spoke was always so eloquent, even mysterious somehow, and Fenris couldn’t help but feel a little intrigued by him in return. He opened his eyes and turned to meet the mage’s concerned gaze once more, and the two elves simply looked at each other of a time. 

Fenris eventually sighed and pushed himself off the ground, this time more slowly.

“I am fine, just light headed. Solas, I appreciate your healing and the kindness you’ve showed me this morning. I shudder to think what might have happened if you had not done so. But… I have had enough. I am exhausted in so many ways and I simply wish to return to camp now to be with Hawke. Perhaps when we are back in Skyhold, with all of this behind us, if you are still interested in learning more about all this,” He motioned to his own body and the faint blue markings covering him, “I will entertain your questions. But for now… ~please~, I have had enough and wish to be alone.”

Solas smiled faintly, his approval surprising Fenris, and the mage nodded to him appreciatively.

“Very well, I respect your feelings and appreciate your honest request. I will leave you to walk back alone, if you wish, but do not linger here for long. I suspect the Commander will already be angry that we have kept them from leaving sooner.” Solas bowed his head to Fenris and began to walk back the way they had come.

“Thank you, Solas.” Fenris called after him.

“You are welcome.”

___

Fenris was left alone in the quiet then and the turned back to the gentle stream. He watched the clear waters trickling by, the glint of sunlight almost making the surface sparkle. The sound of the waterfall and the birds around him were the only thing that broke the silence; it was so peaceful that he wished he could just stay here and avoid facing those back at camp and lurking in the forest. He sat for a time considering all that had just occurred; what a whirlwind of a trip this had turned out to be. A Tevinter mage in his party; Hawke had nearly died due to Fenris’ own stupidity; the Tevinter mage had saved him; Fenris had been corrupted by red lyrium; a mysterious elven mage had painfully ripped the corruption from his body; and his markings had responded in a strange way to that mage’s touch. Fenris wanted to forget all of it; he wished it was simply back in Kirkwall with Hawke, or elsewhere else far away, living a lazy existence without all this ‘excitement’.

Hawke… Fenris had to get back to camp; he wanted nothing more now than to sit at his lover’s side and await his eventual recovery. Fenris hoped it wouldn’t take too long, as he missed him deeply already. The elf turned around and followed the way Solas had gone, slowly making his way back to the camp and leaving his bloodied bandages behind.

___

As Fenris gingerly walked out of the forest and back into camp, it appeared decidedly more crowded than when he'd left at dawn. The bedrolls had all since been packed up and the camp fire completely extinguished as the group had made preparations to leave. A group of scouts had returned to their group and were now milling about with the soldiers, while there appeared to be a small meeting going on in the centre of the clearing, just beside where Hawke still lay. As Fenris approached him, picking up his pace now that he could see his lover once more, the Inquisitor noticed him and waved.

"Fenris, could you join us please?"

So much for a quiet moment with Hawke; he still hadn't had the chance to see him since he'd been healed. Fenris let out a pained groan to himself as he deviated from his path toward the small group instead. Also with the Inquisitor was Solas, Cullen, Dorian and Iron Bull, which made him no more willing to join them, but he stiffly forced his legs to walk their way. It hadn't escaped his mind that he was still bare chested and he folded his arms in a feeble attempt to grant himself what little privacy that would offer.

"Yes?" He couldn't keep the annoyance from his tone as he reached the group, "Can this wait until I've had a chance to dress, perhaps?"

"Oh, right." The Inquisitor turned and called out to a nearby group of soldiers, who, on her request, busied themselves in finding a spare shirt for Fenris. The conversation between those gathered around him paused for the duration, creating a very awkward silence.

A shirt was eventually handed to Fenris, and ignoring the dirt and smell of sweat, he pulled it on, grateful to have his modesty returned to him. He nodded with a genuine thanks to the soldier who had given up his shirt. 

"Now then," the Inquisitor turned back to the group, "We were just discussing what best way to proceed today, given that we have fewer travelling now and also Hawke to carry back to the main camp."

"I will go with Hawke." Fenris immediately announced.

"Yes, we thought you would say that, but unfortunately-"

"I am ~not~ leaving him! Not after what happened!" Fenris didn't hesitate in cutting the Inquisitor off. He could feel himself growing tense already; he could not leave Hawke, not after being the reason for why he was in his current state.

The group fell awkwardly silent, not seeming overly surprised by his response, but still appearing unsure of what to say on the matter.

It was Solas who spoke up first, his tone understanding but his expression serious.

"Fenris, we need every willing and able fighter on the field. You have seen what we must fight, and we cannot afford to lose this battle. You are needed here to ensure our success in the coming days. Hawke will survive his injuries, I have assured you of this; there is nothing you can do for him here while he sleeps." The mage's eyes were fixed intently on Fenris', "Our victory here will ultimately help Hawke in the long term, as it will us all."

There was a wave of agreement from the others, each one nodding slightly in turn. Fenris let out another groan of frustration as his eyes moved to Hawke lying at their side. 

"The scouts have been asked to see to his safe return to the main camp. Someone will always be close by him, and we will not be gone long. A day or two, perhaps." The Inquisitor spoke softly, trying to offer him some thread of comfort.

"And what if he wakes up and I'm not there? I can't allow that!"

"Then he will be awake for your return. You can leave a message for him so he knows it will not be long before you are at his side again..." She offered tentatively. It was clear she knew they were all walking a fine line with him.

Fenris kept his eyes fixed on Hawke; his skin was approaching a more normal tone now, but he was still more pale than Fenris was comfortable with. His beard had grown to an unruly length over the past few days, Fenris could almost hear the complaints Hawke would have made about that fact. With the blanket still covering his body, Fenris couldn't see any injuries, which he was glad for. From where someone had wiped the blood from his face and neck, there was still a small amount of smearing from the horror of the night before. In all, Hawke looked quite peaceful lying there, his eyes closed and his breathing normal. The sight put a lump in Fenris' throat and he could feel tears of relief threatening to fill his eyes.

"Can you please leave me alone with him for a moment, at least?"

He didn't take his eyes from Hawke, afraid his emotions would show if he looked at the others; the softening of his tone was already beginning to do just that.

"Of course." It was actually Dorian who spoke, and the group was ushered away by the mage, leaving Fenris alone with Hawke in the centre of the camp.

___

At first, Fenris couldn't bring himself to move, so he just stood where he was and continued to watch Hawke. His slow and regular breathing was a delight for him to watch; it was such a relief to see after how horrible it had looked and sounded the night before. Fenris suddenly dropped to his knees beside Hawke and slipped his hand into the mage's as he bowed his head over his still form. He clutched at the slack hand tightly and brought it to his lips to kiss, letting his mouth rest there as he closed his eyes to hold back the tears.

"I'm so glad you're going to be alright, Markus." The words came out choked, barely audible as he spoke against the mage's warm skin. The returned warmth made his heart so happy. 

Fenris placed Hawke's hand gently back on his chest, leaning down to cup the mage's cheeks instead, and pressed his forehead to Hawke's. He felt the faintest of movement from Hawke's head in response and his heart leap; he was really alive. Fenris stifled a cry of happiness as he pressed a kiss to Hawke's lips, the mage responding once more with the slightest of tensed lips. His response put a smile on Fenris' lips finally and he hovered there, his lips rested on the corner of his lover's.  
“I love you, Markus. I will return to your side as soon as possible.”

Fenris give his lips another tender kiss before sitting back on his knees and untying the red cloth from his wrist. He was just in the process of slipping it under Hawke's hand when he heard someone approach from behind.

"He would really appreciate a shave..." Fenris recognised the voice immediately and instinctively bristled. 

He ignored Dorian's words for a moment as he finished tying the red token to Hawke's wrist; trust the mage to interrupt that moment. Fenris forced himself to take a deep breath to calm himself before standing up slowly and facing him. As he met the mage's gaze, he noticed Dorian was holding something out to him and he lowered his eyes to investigate. In his hand, Dorian held out a razor towards the elf; it was quite the odd thing to be offered at a time like this, Fenris thought. He raised his eyes once more and arched a brow at the mage, which was met with a shrug and a charming smile.

"Hawke is a man after my own heart, I know he wouldn't appreciate waking up and looking like ~that~..." Dorian pointedly motioned towards Hawke and his bear-like appearance. "Please, for his sake..." He thrust the razor towards Fenris once more.

Fenris wasn't sure if he should be irritated that Dorian had compared himself to his Hawke, or thankful for the offer, knowing that Dorian was absolutely correct. He was sure, however, that he really wanted to hate the mage, but he was beginning to make it very difficult. Fenris reluctantly reached out and took the razor from Dorian, giving him a nod in return.

"Thank you, Dorian." He fixed the mage with a steady gaze, steeling himself for what he knew he had to do now; no point in delaying this any further. "And thank you for last night..."

"Huh... "Thank you for last night" he says; I've heard that a few times before." The mage's voice took on a sultry tone as he smirked at his own jest. His face suddenly lit up into a grin, as if he was relieved to be offered something less serious to cling to for a time. As Fenris begin to scowl at the response, Dorian immediately cut it off with a more serious response, "You're welcome, Fenris. Hawke and I have become friends, as he has with everyone else he has met here. He is very easy to get along with, and also rather charming, I might add! It would make no one happy to see him die here; I could have done nothing less. I'm glad to hear he will recover."

Fenris nodded slowly to his acceptance, but felt as though he needed to say more.

"I am also-.... I apologise for how I spoke to you last night, you did not deserve my anger."

"I would have reacted no differently if it was my Bull in Hawke's place. Consider it forgotten."

"No, I mean-"

"Consider it forgotten, Fenris," Dorian's voice took on a more serious tone as he cut the elf short, and he started to turn around to leave, "I know enough to understand what you meant, and I accept and appreciate your apology. There is no need to discuss it further. I look forward to fighting with you today." The mage nodded politely and walked off towards the qunari who, Fenris noticed then, had been watching protectively from a short distance away.

Fenris turned back to Hawke, glancing down at the razor still in his hands. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself; it was a very strange peace offering, but very fitting somehow.


	13. You are Lucky

Fenris had to force himself to leave Hawke to the scouts. He rooted himself in place in the centre of the camp and watched as a small group of them lifted him onto a make-shift stretcher. An ache lay heavy on his chest as he watched his lover carried off into the forest; wanting nothing more than to stay at his side. But he knew that Solas was right, there was really nothing he could do for Hawke now, and he was needed elsewhere. 

Despite his attempts to utilise Dorian’s gift, Cullen had adamantly insisted that there was no more time to waste, and his grooming of Hawke had been cut short. He’d slipped the razor into his pack then, intent on following through with it upon his return to the main camp. As much as Fenris wanted Hawke to recover quickly, he couldn’t help but selfishly hope that he would be present when the mage first awoke.

Once Hawke and the scouts had disappeared into the forest, the rest of the group immediately set out. With the delay Hawke and Fenris had caused that morning, by the time they were ready to depart it was already a few hours past dawn, causing the Commander, Cassandra and the Chevaliers to seem ill at ease. 

Fenris went out of his way more than normal to walk alone for the first stretch of their journey, trying hard to avoid any conversation about what had happened the previous night, or about his walk with Solas. Varric knew Fenris well enough by now to recognise his mood and the dwarf stayed away respectfully. A few of the others made some vague efforts to cheer him up, but his avoidance at conversation soon left him walking alone, which he was happy for. 

The day seemed to pass by quickly, and the enemies they encountered were much like those from the previous day. Although Hawke was not present to chastise him, Fenris kept his promise and hung back with the mages and ranged fighters long enough to allow the other warriors to engage first. The tactic seemed to work quite well, as the enemy was often distracted before he reached them, and he was able to avoid becoming a target more often than not. Varric and the Inquisitor seemed to have become accustomed to fighting alongside each other; splitting up to stand on opposite ends of the row of mages. They shouted out their kills to one another as they showered the enemy with arrows and bolts, and Fenris couldn’t help but smile a little to himself; it reminded him of the competition Varric and Hawke had often had in the past. He’d missed that sort of friendly rivalry.

Now that Dorian, Morrigan and Solas had joined them, the group had four mages, and Fenris found himself intrigued by the unfamiliar use of magic from the three new-comers. While they all obviously found an enjoyment in their magic use, none of them used the explosive magic he’d become accustomed to from Hawke’s love of fire. On more than one occasion, Fenris noticed wisp-like forms appear and attack their enemies, even taking on their appearance after death and continuing to fight their own kin. The image had given him pause and he’d watched on in confusion as the spirit beat down its equally confused comrade before vanishing once more. Another time a group of scattered enemy were all suddenly pulled towards a centre point where an eerie green boulder suddenly appeared to crash down on them. And amongst all this carnage he spotted Morrigan taking on the form of various animals, to fight alongside them. The strange new sights made him miss Hawke further; at least his magic was less confusing. 

As Fenris fought, the pain in his side was almost unnoticeable; the only discomfort he felt was a tightness that ran along the path of the scar. On the first occasion that he attempted to bring his lyrium to life, however, the wound that had intersected the veins on his thigh burned painfully, causing the effect to cease abruptly as he lost concentration. He flinched noticeably and stumbled to a stop with a growl of annoyance; hopefully that could be remedied.

___

The forest felt comfortably warm as they trekked through it that morning. The sound of their footsteps on dried leaves and through bushes was the only foreign sound between fights. The birds sang loudly as always, and the odd buzzing insect flew by as they interrupted the foliage of the forest. 

As they walked Fenris eventually found himself behind Dorian and Iron Bull. The pair walked silently side-by-side, though he noticed the mage had his little finger always hooked into one of the qunari’s. At a glance most wouldn’t notice the gesture, but at close observation the casual familiarity and affection was obvious to him; it gave Fenris a pang of envy that they had each other and Hawke was out of reach from him. 

Dorian glanced behind him and caught Fenris’ quiet gaze, breaking away from Bull to drop in beside the elf.

“I forgot to mention, I want that razor back, you know?” The mage’s voice seemed to always irritate him a little somehow; it just had a little too much intonation to it, like he was forever trying to entertain an audience. 

“Noted…”

“Try not to lose it.” Dorian smiled down at him.

“I won’t lose it.” Fenris narrowed his eyes in annoyance and kept his gaze onthe path in front.

Iron Bull hadn’t joined them but continued to walk in front, seeming disinterested in their conversation. Fenris knew better now though, than to think the qunari wasn’t keeping a close eye on their interactions.

“I couldn’t help but notice you glowed for a moment earlier; that’s quite the trick! Can you control it?”

Fenris tensed as the mage brought up his markings; the topic was one of his least favourite at the best of times, and being asked by a Tevinter mage certainly didn’t improve his liking for it. He couldn’t help but feel defensive immediately, being reminded of his former master’s interest in his markings. He pursed his lips as he considered how best to respond, having promised himself that he would give this man the benefit of the doubt for once.

“To some degree, yes.” He couldn’t quite keep his tone neutral, his words sounding abrupt and annoyed nonetheless. 

Iron Bull turned his head with a faint growl of annoyance in response to his tone.

“You’re a real pissed off little elf, aren’t you? You should be grateful Dorian bothered to help you last night…” The qunari’s eyes shifted to Dorian then, who promptly held a hand out to diffuse the situation.

“Amatus, please…”

Fenris scowled at the qunari’s chastisement, feeling both affronted and embarrassed by it. He was right, of course, but the mage’s heritage was hard to ignore. In a quiet, stiff tone, Fenris looked up to meet the qunari’s eyes, aware that some of the others had probably already heard the conflict.

“I am very grateful for that, but it is difficult to put aside years of mistreatment at the hands of Tevinter mages… I am ~trying~.” He turned his eyes to Dorian, to ensure the mage knew the comment was directed at them both. 

“Were they Dorian’s hands?”

“…No, but-“

“But nothing! Hate someone when they give you reason to.” Bull abruptly turned around once more and continued walking, leaving an awkward silence behind him between Dorian and Fenris. 

Fenris focused on the road, feeling foolish. He wished he hadn’t reacted the way he had the night before when Dorian and the others had first arrived. If he had even tried to remain calm and listen to Hawke, so much of the trouble that followed might not have happened. It all felt like a big mess now and they really had bigger problems to worry about, but he couldn’t put it out of his mind.

Fenris eventually glanced up at the mage, who was busy idly curling the tips of his moustache as his mind wandered. The elf broke the silence, forcing his voice to sound as conversational as possible.

“Hawke said he’d told you all to stay behind last night. What made you follow?”

Dorian looked down at the elf as he spoke, dropping his hand back to his side.

“Ahh, well I sense spirits attracted to death, you see. Shortly after Hawke ran off after you, I felt their presence and knew something was obviously amiss. I felt like it would be delightfully theatrical if I, the mage who unknowingly elicited your outraged departure, would be the one to charge in and save the day.” Dorian returned to his usual flamboyance and couldn’t help but grin at his own words, which were met with a grunt of annoyance from the qunari and a quiet growl from Fenris. The mage kept talking, however, not seeming to notice either of their responses over his own voice, “In truth, I really didn’t expect to come across what I did. I suppose you can consider yourselves lucky.” 

Fenris nodded, not considering anything about that night lucky.

“Well, I’m thankful that you came after him.” 

It felt strange to be thanking the mage now. Fenrisfelt very conflicted about the situation, but he wasn’t foolish enough to blame his own rash decisions on the mage, whose actions were innocent. No, it was his mistake that had directly led to Hawke’s misfortune. He wished he could act less hasty at times and hoped Hawke would forgive him for finding that so difficult.

“Likewise, Hawke is a good man. You are a lucky man, Fenris.”

“Hey! I’m right here…” Bull interjected and glanced over his shoulder at Dorian, looking affronted.

“Well, obviously I’m a very lucky man too!” With a quick step Dorian had slipped in beside Bull, hooking his arm into the larger man’s, who smiled own at the mage fondly.

“You bet your arse, you are.” 

___

The group eventually began to descend down a gentle hill, and Fenris noticed another lazy stream flowing across their path ahead. The water was equally clear to the stream he’d stood by with Solas earlier in the day, but this one was much wider; the clarity of the water making it easy to see, even from this distance, that the stream was shallow enough to wade across. The group paused at the bank to take a moment of reprieve as they gazed about the picturesque scene. Fenris joined them, though stood a few feet away from the larger group, still content to continue his solitude.

“It’s a shame we can’t stop to enjoy this,” Cassandra offered quietly, to which several of the others nodded their agreement.

Fenris turned his gaze downstream, noticing a few brightly coloured fish in the water along the way. A lone doe had paused in her drinking to star at them from the opposite bank; its ears pricked and pointed toward them, its body tensed and ready to spring back into the cover of the forest. As Fenris was watching, thedeer’s earsflicked back to point further downstream and its head followed, evidently hearing something else approaching. The doe abruptly disappeared with a leap across the stream and into the forest a few yards away.

“Prepare yourselves…” Fenris warned the others, as his eyes remained fixed towards the direction the deer had looked.

As he watched a group of red Templars and grey wardens emerged from the forest and began walking towards them with purpose, weapons raised in preparation for the fight.As they approached, Fenris could see the group at least matched their own in number; more than they had previously fought in one battle. His own group spread out along the banks, the mages, ranged attackers and Fenris taking a step back as the warriors approached the enemy. The mages immediately began their usual murmuring of protective spells on their comrades, attempting to grant each one of them some sort of aid before the battle began. Fenris felt the foreign spell casters grant him protection likewise, before they turned their attention to the enemy, and battle cries suddenly erupted into the otherwise quiet forest. Before the Templars and wardens could even reach their group, the Inquisitor and Varric had picked off at least four with quick head shots as the groups ran toward each other.

They met with a thunderous clash of metal in the middle of the stream, making the fighting even more difficult with water reaching up to their upper thighs. Iron Bull seemed to be the least inhibited by the water, his huge axe swinging to cut any enemy down before they could even reach him with their own weapons. Fenris couldn’t help but grin at the sight of him, envying the extra reach he had.

Fenris ran to join the fighting, swinging his sword to slice through any enemy that came too close. There didn’t appear to be any more Templars in the advanced stages of corruption, though a small number of grotesque looking demons appeared to be fighting alongside them instead, always in close proximity to the wardens. Steeling himself against the burning sensation he knew would follow, Fenris clenched his fists on his sword as he brought the lyrium to life once more. As expected the wound on this thigh flared in pain and he let out an abrupt cry. Having been prepared for it this time, he tried hard to fight past it and maintain his focus, his skin lighting up in response. With teeth clenched, Fenris suddenly phased through his closest foe, a glassy eyed warden, solidifying once more to leave his lifeless body in tatters around his feet. He heard a few startled cries around him as his comrades played witness to his unnatural abilities, but he paid them no heed as he engaged the his next victim with a swing of his sword. He felt the thrill of battle take hold of him once more; it felt good to concentrate on fighting again and forget about his other problems for a time. 

Fenris tried hard to ignore the pain in his thigh, but he found he constantly had to favour the leg which eventually became exhausting. He withdrew to the edge of the battle, with the glow of his skin dimming as he tried to relax the tensed muscles. Just then, a wave of magic washed over his body, all but causing the burn in his thigh to vanish completely; the relief it gave him caused a sudden groan to escape his lips. He immediately cast his eyes behind him at the row of mages still engaged in their spell casting, and caught sight of Solas as he gave Fenris a nod. Fenris bowed his head in gratitude to the elven mage, before turning back to the battle. 

As Fenris ran back into the fray, he spotted a small group of elves emerge from the forest where their enemy had also come from. They were crouched low and immediately advanced on the fighting group, weapons held ready. Fenris frowned, not recognising their armour as belonging to the inquisition, and he paused briefly to watch their approach; were they allies?

One of the newcomers immediately engaged the nearest Templar who had his back turned in another fight. The elf took him down with two quick strikes of his daggers, while another dove at the Inquisition soldier who had been fighting him. Fenris’ eyes widened as he realised that these elves were not, infact, their allies, and seemed to be attacking the group without discrimination. Before he could even shout a warning, another elf had jumped at one of their chevaliers, who wasalso already engaged in battle with two wardens, and the man went down with barely a shout of surprise. 

“New enemy!” Fenris called out to his allies in warning. 

The new additions were clearly competent fighters, using the sort of style that the scouts did; swiftly moving about the battlefield with ease and taking out anyone who wasn’t fast enough to react. Fenris rushed back in to the battle, already having seen a number of enemy and allies alike, fall to the elves. Their sudden appearance was confusing; why were they attacking both groups? He ran directly for one of the elves, never taking his eyes from his new foe. The lyrium the burned to life once more caused his thigh little to no burn this time; he had to remember to thank Solas.

Fenris found it difficult to reach the newcomer without losing sight of him; the elf darted in and out of the fighters, buffeting attacks from others whilst trying to lay his own attack as he spun about. Just as Fenris finally reached him, the elf was suddenly thrown back and lifeless to the ground, an arrow between his eyes the only indication of who had made the skilful kill. Varric had quite the competition with the Inquisitor, Fenris mused. He saw Cole suddenly appear beside him to deftly take out another of the elves, his unnatural speed and fighting style seeming just enough to outmanoeuvre the elf.

___

Eventually the cries of battle and the clang of metal died down, a few final fights ending with Varric and the Inquisitor taking out the last straggles still fighting with their group.In the aftermath, Fenris noticed that they’d lost a few more of their own in this battle; which had proven to be the largest yet. 

Cullen and his men now seemed to have been reduced to only himself and two others, while the chaveliers had also lost two of their own. With the help of Iron Bull and Cassandra, the warriors moved the bodies of their fallen to the edge of the stream, separating them from the enemy that was now scattered about the banks and already floating down stream.  
Fenris noticed Solas crouched over one of the fallen elves and he walked over to investigate.

“Who are they?”

As the mage examined the elf’s tattooed face, hebrushed dirt from his cheek with care.

“I believe they are the temple guardians; we must be close.” His voice was tinged with a sadness that confused Fenris, and he watched as Solas closed the elf’s lifeless eyes with his hand before standing. 

Solas’ expression was guarded and unreadable when he finally met Fenris’ gaze, and Fenris found he wasn’t really sure what to say in response to his sombre mood. He eventually broke the silence by changing the subject entirely.

“Solas, I wanted to thank you for whatever you did for me earlier, it was much appreciated. My leg feels almost normal now.”  
“Of course.” The mage merely nodded in return, his thoughts seeming distant.

The Inquisitor’s voice suddenly rang out from behind them, interrupting the awkward moment.

“The Temple should be just ahead; we will part ways shortly.”

Solas turned and walked back to join the group without another word, leaving Fenris alone once more to gaze down at the dead elf.The tattoo on his face was intricate in its design; a green feathered tree branch covering his forehead and running down either side of his face and nose. His armour was almost immaculate, only the blood from battle marring the brilliant golden shine; his daggers of equal quality, with more intricatebranch designs covering the blades and pommel. Solas’ words gave Fenris a pang of regret that the elves had been slain;had they truly only been protecting their temple and been unaware that his group, at least, were not here to desecrate it but to protect it also?

___

The Inquisitor proceeded to explain that she, Solas, Morrigan, Dorian and Iron Bull would leave the larger group further up the path, as the temple was only a short distance away. In order to prevent Corypheus calling in more of his own men as reinforcements, the rest of them would wait here and guard the way to the temple. Those from the other groups who had set out on alternate paths, had already sent word that they had secured their areas around the temple and were doing likewise. Fenris found himself wondering who had sent word of this, but shrugged it off as some other mage trick he wasn’t yet aware of. 

Further along they came across some ruins that were distinctly elven in design; obviously some outer structure that had once surrounded the temple of Mythal. Commander Cullen announced that this would be where they held their position and Fenris promptly found a quiet spot away from the rest of the group. He removed the sword from his back and rested it against the remains of a stone wall, sitting down beside it to lean his back against the cool stone with an exhausted sigh. The wound on his thigh still felt tender, but the magic cast upon it by Solas had worked wonders after the lyrium had reawakened the pain. Fenris pulled what he had left of his water and rations from his bag and took a deep swig from the waterskin, tuning his mind out from the chatter of the rest of the group.

A pair of knee-high leather boots suddenly appeared beside him, interrupting the solace that he sought. He turned his head to look up at the Inquisitor standing beside him, hand out-stretched to offer him a large piece of cheese and bread.

“You’re quite the sight in battle, Fenris.” She invited herself to take a seat beside him, perching on the edge of one of the ruined stone walls.

He nodded as he accepted the food from her, placing aside his less desirable rations. 

“So I’m told. And you’re quite a good shot, I've noticed.”

“Thank you.” She reached over to briefly examine his sword with interest, before picking it up from its place against the wall.

The Inquisitor held the oversized sword by the hilt with both hands in front of her, the size of it looking comical compared to her small elven frame; Fenris realised he probably looked as ridiculous and couldn't help but grin at the thought. She waved it side to side as if testing its weight, before raising her eyebrows at him with an impressed look.

"I didn't expect it to be quite this heavy!" She grinned back at him with a slight laugh, before returning the sword to its original place against the wall, "I think I'll stick with my bow."

"With aim like yours, I think you should stick to it too."

A genuine smile had been fixed to her face the whole time, giving it a youthful appearance; by Fenris’ guess she would have been a few years his junior. Her golden hair was cropped short and pinned back with a silver woven hair pin, the edge of her left ear adorned with several modest silver studs. At this distance, her golden eyes were even more startling than he’d previously noticed, and she fixed Fenris with an intense gaze; no doubt Solas had found himself lost in that gaze numerous times before, she was a beautiful woman.

Fenris cleared his throat, turning his gaze aside.

“So when do you depart, Inquisitor?”

“Oh, please call me Bren, the formality isn't necessary."

"Very well."

"We’ll head out shortly, the others are just organising which supplies we'll be taking with us." She leaned forward on her knees, giving him her full attention, “Are you well, Fenris? Solas told me he’d helped with your wounds, are they well healed?”

Fenris glanced back to the elf and nodded.

“Yes, Solas has helped me greatly.”

The Inquisitor smiled fondly at the news, seeming pleased.

“Good. For someone that claims not to be a healer, he’s very good at keeping people alive. He did the same for me when we first met.” She extended her left hand towards Fenris, revealing the palm of her hand. 

Fenris had heard of the green anchor that she supposedly possessed, but had yet to see it used or even notice it; the mark she showed him now didn’t really live up to the tales. The green stain infused into her skin looked almost like a larger green version of his own markings, the colour slightly shimmering in the light. There was no glow at all, however, and he supposed it lay dormant until needed, similar to his own. 

“What do you mean? He had to stop it from killing you?”

“So he said, yes.” She nodded, withdrawing her hand.

“Perhaps we are both lucky to have him around then.”

"I consider myself very lucky, yes." She smiled fondly once more, clearly referring to more than just Solas' useful magical abilities. 

As the conversation ceased, Bren merely observed the other elf for a time, before breaking the silence.

“I hope that once this is over you might consider staying in Skyhold? There is plenty of room for you both to stay on. You would be most welcome, and we could use your skills.”

Fenris leaned back, breaking eye contact with her to rest his head against the wall behind him.

“Thank you for the offer, but I don’t think so, Bren. Hawke and I have already spoken of going very far away once this is over and he is well enough to travel. We are tired of all… this.” He motioned to everything around him. 

She sat quietly beside him, taking in his words and perhaps lost in her own thoughts. She eventually stood and Fenris turned his attention back to her then.

“If the two of you tire of the solitude and wish to be a part of something in the future, you are always welcome to return then.” Her tone suggested she had accepted his rejection, but the offer stood all the same.

Fenris nodded to her with a faint smile and watched as she walked back to rejoin those who were about to depart. He noticed Solas welcome her return with the subtle brush of his hand to her lower back when he thought no one was watching. The mage leaned down to whisper something by her ear and an unfamiliar smile touched his lips; he seemed more relaxed around her, which didn’t really surprise Fenris. Bren turned her face towards him then and stole a kiss from the corner of his lips, eliciting another brief caress from the mage's hand. Fenris' eyes moved on to catch Dorian and Bull also standing together a short distance away, the shorter man reaching up on tip-toes to give the large qunari a kiss to his jaw line. For a huge brute of man, the fondness Bull showed for the mage was plain, causing an envious groan from Fenris. All those stolen moments of affection didn't help him miss Hawke any less, and he promptly turned his gaze away from the couples. 

___

The smaller group tasked with heading into the temple eventually broke away from the rest of them and gathered further up the path to have a quiet meeting with the Commander. While Fenris couldn’t hear the discussion, he did notice some heated words exchanged between the Inquisitor and Cullen, to which Solas seemed to put an abrupt end. 

The group departed shortly after, leaving Cullen to watch with a concerned and irritated expression. He turned on his heel once they were out of sight and returned at a brisk walk, his expression remaining. He retreated to the edge of the ruins, disinterested in joining the rest of the group, who had gathered in the centre to relax and recover from a difficult battle. Fenris leaned back against the wall to enjoy the brief moment of calm, wondering if or when they would have to begin protecting the path ahead.


	14. Everything

Fiona roused Fenris from his dozing a short time later, sitting down beside him as he lay on his back, one arm tucked behind his head as a pillow. 

“Are you well, Fenris?”

Fenris opened one eye to look up at the mage and gave a curt nod to her question.

“Well enough.” He turned his head toward her fully after a moment. “Thank you for helping Hawke last night, Fiona.” 

“Of course; I’m glad that he will make a full recovery.” She offered Fenris a kind, yet sympathetic smile, the corner of her eyes wrinkling and betraying her age.

“I will be forever grateful for that...” 

She nodded to him earnestly, acknowledging the sincerity of his tone.

“And what of your own wounds?”

“Solas has seen to them.”

“Ahh, very well then.” She nodded, lingering for a moment before hesitantly going on, "Your mood is plain to those around you, Fenris. Do not blame yourself too much; you were not to know what would happen when you left the camp. Walking away from something is often the best option when you are angry. It was simply a very unfortunate outcome in this case.”

Fenris turned his face skyward once more and sighed softly; he hated that so many others knew the details of last night, and he couldn't simply deal with it in private.

“I could also have listened to his explanation...”

“Perhaps. I still stand by what I said, however; you could also have reacted a lot worse.” The elven mage reached a comforting hand out to briefly touch his shoulder, before pushing herself up and leaving him to his thoughts. 

Fiona seemed kind; why had his distrust for mages still not completely resolved, he wondered? Since meeting Hawke, Fenris had met many more mages who seemed to be kind and trustworthy, yet he still felt stubborn about giving them trust as freely as he might someone else. Fenris found it frustrating that it was so difficult to do even when he wanted to; especially when it came to Hawke. The thought only caused his hatred for Danarius to fire to life, and he growled at the memory of the mage.

Fenris promptly shut his eyes tightly, cutting that train of thought off and trying to force his mind elsewhere. His healing lover eventually came to mind as he usually did; no doubt Hawke would be back at the main camp by now. Idly sitting here waiting for word on when he could return to Hawke was going to become more than a little frustrating for him. He let out a disgruntled groan, his face contorting into a scowl; he would rather have been sent into the temple to keep his mind occupied. The elf sighed, settling in to wait, however, and taking what little respite he could before the inevitable Templar attacks. 

___

Fenris did not have to wait long; there were a number of small attacks on the position they held leading to the temple entrance, but it certainly wasn't the force that Fenris or the others had expected. Nobody complained, of course, but the seemingly feeble efforts of the Templars now set everyone on edge. Fenris quietly wondered if they were merely a distraction from something worse elsewhere, or if their location was completely wrong. The majority of the time the group found themselves waiting, and Fenris quickly found his patience with it wearing thin; he could have been making his way back to Hawke all this time, this all seemed very pointless. 

The conversations Fenris had to endure from the others certainly didn’t improve the situation, darkening his mood further to the point that he almost welcomed another attack. There had been a mix of idle chit chat; people talking about Hawke as if he were actually dead; and subtle mentions of how Dorian was a wonderful man. All Fenris needed was another strange, cryptic conversation with Cole to really make his day complete. But other than the boy, the only person who hadn’t tried to converse with Fenris that day had been Cullen, who seemed equally annoyed and content to keep to himself. Cullen's eyes were almost exclusively fixed on the path leading to the temple, as if at any moment the Inquisitor's group might reappear. 

___

As the shadows grew long over the ruins, Fenris pushed up from a seat he’d made for himself on the edge of an old stone wall, and walked towards the Commander. Cullen now stood further up the path, looking increasingly concerned as dusk slowly approached, and Fenris wondered if he'd soon give in and take off after them like a deserted puppy. The man turned to Fenris as he approached, the interruption seeming to distract him from his worrying and offer some relief.

“Fenris.”

“Commander. We haven’t been attacked in a few hours, when will we know to return to the main camp?”

“We are waiting on news from Dorian, but we’ve heard nothing in quite some time.” His tone made it quite clear that this was what was distressing him most.

“News from Dorian?”

“Yes, he and Fiona have some sort of crystal that allows them to communicate, but the last we heard from him was when they first sighted the temple. That was hours ago.”

“Was there any idea on how long they might be?"

Cullen glanced back down the path and shrugged his shoulders lightly with a sigh.

"Not exactly, but we hadn't expected to be without word for this long."

"Was there a plan for this situation?”

The Commander turned back to face Fenris and shook his head.

“No, we hadn’t considered the possibility…”

Something in the ruins behind Fenris caught the Commander's attention and he tilted his head to look past the elf with a frown. Fenris turned to follow the Commander’s gaze and noticed the small group of scouts who had carried Hawke away earlier that day, approaching at a brisk walk. Cullen brushed past him in his haste to meet the scouts and, deciding that this might be a good opportunity to gain some news on Hawke's condition, Fenris followed along after him. 

“Commander Cullen.” Teyrelle approached with the other scouts in tow, nodding respectfully to the Commander in greeting. 

Her ranking seemed to be higher than that of the other scouts, often being the one to report or lead the group. She glanced at Fenris walking behind Cullen, and gave a faint nod of recognition before turning her attention back to the Commander. 

“The forest has grown very quiet, Commander. On our journey back to the main camp, and to lend you aid here, we did not cross one Templar in the forest…”

"Curious." Cullen nodded slowly to her words, trying to make sense of what they might mean. “We have not seen any Templars approach this location in hours either,” he mused.

As if on cue, a loud roar erupted through the forest from the direction of the temple; the ferocity of it sending a chill up Fenris’ spine. Not a moment later, a shadow swept across the ruins causing everyone to suddenly look skyward to catch the enormous shape of a dragon flying overhead. The dragon let out another almighty roar as it flew, the power and violence in it causing a few of those present to duck instinctively. Thankfully, the dragon soared over them with single-minded determination, not even sparing a glance at the ground as it disappeared out of view once more. The group was left staring after it in silent awe, an ominous atmosphere now lingering in the ruins.

With a troubled expression, Cullen was the first to break the silence, turning toward the direction of the temple, and where the dragon had taken flight.

“Something’s happened…”

Fenris and Teyrelle exchanged a look of uncertainty, also unsure of what the dragon’s passing and the deserted forest might mean. The two other scouts behind Teyrelle kept their eyes fixed on the direction the dragon had flown, still crouching warily with hands instinctively rested on their weapons. They were also female Fenris noticed then; another elf and a slightly taller, but equally lithe human. 

“Perhaps they have succeeded.” Teyrelle offered, turning her attention to the Commander; her face betraying that she didn’t truly believe her own words. “The Templars have fled the field, why else would they retreat?”

“Perhaps…” Cullen continued to stare towards the temple, clearly not willing to place all his hopes on the scout's suggestion either. He suddenly turned towards the others who still stood frozen in the ruins and looking skyward, his eyes frantically scanning the area, “Where is Fiona?”

The elven mage emerged from the edge of the clearing as she heard her name, and began walking towards the Commander. As if understanding why she’d been sought, she shook her head solemnly to the Cullen’s enquiring gaze as she approached him. He let out a growl of frustration and suddenly turned on his heel to begin marching down the path that led to the temple; clearly the limit of his patience had been reached.

“I’m going in after them; we can't abandon them here.”

“Commander!” Teyrelle suddenly called out boldly in protest, breaking away from her fellow scouts to cut him off. The commander pointedly ignored her, the look on his face now one of anger. “Commander! That wasn’t part of the plan!” She raised her voice further to get his attention but Cullen continued his stubborn walk into the forest.

Stopping a few paces away, the elven scout threw her hands up in defeat, and turned back with an exasperated groan; the expression made Fenris wonder how many times the Commander had gotten on her nerves in the past. With her usual cool demeanour long since abandoned, Teyrelle marched back to join Fenris and the other scouts, who had turned to watch the commotion. 

“He really needs to learn to keep his feelings in check.” She growled under her breath as she came to stand beside Fenris. 

He raised a brow at her words, giving her a quizzical look; Fenris considered then that perhaps what he'd thought was normal concern for his leader and other comrades, was actually something else entirely. Fiona arrived to stand amongst them then, her eyes also following the Commander with a frown as he marched off on his own. 

“We can’t let him go alone.”

Fenris let out a frustrated groan and suddenly broke into a run after the Commander. Despite his irritation at the man's irrational behaviour, he couldn’t ignore that Cullen's actions now made sense and reminded him of his own. Fenris, after all, was very familiar with the notion that throwing oneself into danger might save someone he loved; but who was this person that the Commander felt so inclined to risk his life for? 

When Fenris caught up to Cullen, he reached out to grip his shoulder tightly and stop the man in his tracks.

“Stop, Cullen!”

The Commander yanked himself free from Fenris’ grip and glared at the elf, his temper clearly rising from the delay the elf was causing.

“Don’t try to stop me! We need to offer them aid; we can't just leave them in there!” It was clear he was trying to keep his tone official, but his words were pained and his expression soon reverted to one of concern. 

When he realised how he sounded, he averted his eyes from Fenris and let out a helpless growl under his breath; another response Fenris was all too familiar with.

“Was that the plan?” Fenris felt strange being the voice of reason for once, and not the one flying off the handle; this was new. 

“No, it wasn’t but-”

“What ~was~ the plan?” Fenris cut him off, ignoring the outraged look his interruption received.

The Commander didn’t respond immediately, but turned his head back toward the temple, his expression still sour. 

“Cullen, we need to stick to the plan...” Fenris tried to soften his tone and reached out a hand to once more rest on the conflicted man’s shoulder. 

Cullen didn’t resist this time, allowing the elf to gently turn him about and his expression quickly turned to one of pain. It was clear Cullen felt helpless and as he met Fenris’ eyes, the elf gave the man a sympathetic look. Fenris knew how hard it would be to turn his back on Hawke, so he understood the conflict Cullen was facing right now. Fenris was glad that the Commander was at least more willing to see reason than he would have been if the roles were reversed; Cullen would already be on the ground with a black eye and Fenris would be well on his way to the temple. He was glad he wouldn’t have to add a fist fight with a comrade to this whole adventure.

“You have no idea where to even look, Cullen, they may have left the temple already.”

The Commander nodded slowly in agreement but his expression didn’t change. Fenris applied slight pressure to the Commander’s shoulder, and he allowed himself to be led away, letting out a deep sigh of defeat. Out of respect, Fenris noticed, the others had stayed where they were in the ruins, giving the pair privacy in whatever exchange might occur. 

Cullen shook his head, his thoughts clearly still reaching desperately toward the temple and to those within, but he reluctantly walked back beside Fenris. 

“Dare I even ask?” Fenris tentatively broached the subject, giving Cullen a sidelong look. 

He removed his hand from the man's shoulder as they walked side-by-side, and the Commander let out a bitter laugh and shook his head. 

“You must be the only one not privy to the worst kept secret in the Inquisition, Fenris.”

“Apparently so…” Fenris continued to watch the Commander, deciding for once to probe further when Cullen didn’t offer more on the subject. “Who is it then? Morrigan?”

The commander let out an abrupt laugh, seeming genuinely amused at the suggestion.

“Morrigan? Oh Maker, no…" Cullen couldn't help but laugh again, despite himself, "I think she’d have turned me into toad by now, don’t you?”

Fenris smirked at the suggestion and joined the Commander in his laughter, which didn’t last long before he shook his head.

“You honestly haven’t heard?” Cullen sounded genuinely surprised as he looked back at Fenris.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Commander, I do not go out of my way to engage in idle chatter or gossip.”

“Fair enough.” Cullen let out another sigh, falling quiet as he looked aside from the elf with a solemn expression. 

Fenris watched him for a moment longer, but when no more explanation was offered he made no further enquiry, content to allow the man to avoid the question entirely if he chose to. 

After some thought, however, Cullen eventually turned his eyes back at the elf. 

“The Inquisitor and I... I mean, Bren and I, we… well-" He left out another sigh and shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “It obviously doesn’t matter anymore, she has made her choice.” He shrugged and straightened up as they walked, quickly forcing his expression back into one of neutrality.

Fenris glanced back at the ruins and noticed they were drawing closer to the others; the conversation was obviously over. Cullen hadn’t really needed to say much more anyway; those few words had made the situation clear enough, and Fenris didn't envy him at all. The elf gave Cullen a simple pat on the shoulder before they joined the others; a silent show of understanding at his difficult position. The idea of enduring unrequited love for Hawke was enough to leave a knot in his stomach, and he shook his head sadly for the Commander.

___

As they arrived back at the ruins, Fiona immediately rushed toward Fenris and Cullen with an excited expression on her face. Fenris could see the others were talking in hushed voices behind her, but their expressions betrayed their excitement. 

“They’re safe, Commander!”

“What?...”

“They’re back in Skyhold already!” She smiled at him, seeming genuinely happy at being able to give him the news she knew he was waiting for. “They found the eluvian. Dorian didn't say much more, but that his crystal seemed to be stuck in dormancy while they were in the temple, which is why we heard nothing from them for so long."

Cullen breathed out an audible sigh of relief, a serious expression immediately returning to his face as he marched past the mage to make the announcement, which had clearly already made its way through the rest of the group. 

“The Inquisitor is safe in Skyhold; we’re heading back to the main camp!”

A sudden cheer erupted through the ruins, which put a genuine smile on the Commander’s lips for the first time that Fenris could recall. The commotion of people gathering their gear and preparing to depart, immediately spread through the ruins; it was obvious everyone was keen to get out of there before nightfall.

“Cullen? Will me make camp somewhere tonight, or push through to the main camp?” Cassandra and Varric had approached Cullen, the female warrior also smiling as she questioned their next moves.

“Without the enemy to delay us, we could push through and return some time during the night. Perhaps we should see what the others think?”

Cassandra nodded and Cullen turned to what was left of their small group, who had assembled in the centre of the ruins and were awaiting their next instructions. The unanimous respond confirmed that they would push through the night to return as quickly as possible. Fenris breathed a sigh of relief at that, glad that he would likely be at Hawke’s side before morning. 

___

With the forest clear of its intruders, the group had an unobstructed walk back to the camp. Having set out just before dusk it soon grew dark below the canopy and the night sounds of the forest filled the air. Not much conversation could be heard amongst the group as marched back to the main camp with single-minded determination, their numbers now considerably smaller than when they had set out. The three scouts stayed with the group this time, walking out in front and leading them through, what Fenris assumed, was a more direct route to the camp; often cutting across the main path they had previously taken to cut through denser forest.

With Fenris amongst the keenest to get back to camp, he walked only a few steps behind the scouts for a time, trying to keep pace with them as they navigated the terrain. Teyrelle fell in beside him early in their journey, leaving the other two scouts to continue leading the way. With only Fiona’s staff to illuminate the way it was difficult to see the scout’s face, but Fenris could make out a smile of sorts as she first acknowledged him. 

“I’m glad to see you’re still standing, Fenris.”

“Are you?”

“Of course, we lost too many.”

“That we did.” He nodded in agreement, glancing at her shadowy form beneath the hood. As always he wasn’t interested in idle chit chat so he changed the subject quickly, “Hawke; how was he when you returned him to camp?”  
He could see the scout shift and the reflection of the mage’s staff in her eyes confirmed that she was looking back at him.

“He seemed stable; his condition certainly hadn’t worsened, though it had not improved in that short time either.” Her gaze stayed fixed on him in the dim light, as though she was considering her next words, “What is he to you, Fenris?”

Fenris walked beside her silently, considering what the question meant; was she simply curious about their relationship? Why was everyone always so interested in these things?

“What do you mean?”

She turned to face the way they were walking once more, and chuckled.

“Don’t play stupid, Fenris, you know what I mean.”

Fenris cast a silent glare her way in annoyance, not interested in being asked to sum up his relationship with Hawke in a few words, and certainly not to this stranger.

“Why does it matter to you what he is?”

“Why are your avoiding the question?”

“I’m not avoiding it; I simply prefer my private affairs to remain such; ~Private~.”

“I see.” Her tone held a touch of amusement, which only irritated Fenris further and he responded with a low growl under his breath. 

He didn’t understand why everyone seemed to always need to know the business of others; why did it matter to anyone else how he felt about Hawke? Despite his reluctance, after a long moment of walking silently beside the other elf, he turned to her abruptly.

“Hawke is everything to me.”


	15. Just You and Me

As the night drew endlessly on, the moon rose high enough to cast adequate light on the forest floor, allowing their eyes to adjust to the naturally dim light with the glow of Fiona's staff no longer necessary. The unchanging grey and black silhouettes of the trees passing them by made the journey monotonous; every bend and turn in the paths looked the same to Fenris. The gloomy, mundane surroundings started to get to the elf after a while and he dropped back to walk beside Cullen, looking for anything to occupy his mind. 

For a while Fenris continued to walk in silence beside the Commander, the other man also offering no conversation starters. The moonlight cast eerie shadows on Cullen's face as Fenris glanced over at him, the Commander’s expression still looking a little sullen after the day's events.

“Why would the Templars suddenly leave?”

Cullen ran a hand through his short hair as if to bring his full attention back from where ever it had wandered, and he stifled a yawn. 

“I don’t know, Fenris; it is strange.” His voice betrayed how tired his was, the volume and lack of interest in the topic sounding like someone who wanted nothing more than to fall onto a bedroll somewhere. “Perhaps after the Inquisitor found the eluvian Corypheus no longer had any purpose being there. Perhaps she can clear things up when we arrive back in Skyhold.” He shrugged.

Fenris nodded, falling silent once more. He felt as though he wanted to say more to Cullen about what he had divulged to him earlier, but Fenris knew he was terrible at talking about matters of the heart, so he said nothing. What was there to say anyway? Fenris liked Solas well enough, he seemed like a good man, and he and Bren were clearly together; he couldn’t get involved in Cullen's mess. 

___

As they passed the two locations where their comrades had been buried, the group paused to say their final farewells. Having not known the men at all, Fenris respectfully stayed back, giving those who knew them space to deal with their loss in whatever way they chose. As expected, Hawke came to mind as he watched some of the men quietly speak over the shallow graves, and Fenris had to avert his gaze and walk away in an effort to keep his emotions under control. The idea of Hawke being buried out here like that was too painful to even consider. Varric seemed to have the same trouble, as the dwarf also chose to stand at a distance from the group as their said their goodbyes.

The silence that followed their procession after that was a sombre one, but Fenris didn’t mind the mood; he felt as though it matched his own dark thoughts about what he might find in his tent back at camp. Would Hawke be awake already? What condition would he be in? What would he feel towards Fenris? And what would Fenris say to him? There was so much he wished to say, but nothing seemed adequate for what he had caused that night; nothing seemed adequate for almost killing your lover.

“I can’t wait to get this armour off and my head on a bedroll…” Varric’s voice drew the elf from his brooding.

“Mmm…” Fenris nodded in agreement, but offered the dwarf nothing more.

Fenris could see Varric looking at him from the corner of his eye, and he already knew where the dwarf would try to take the conversation, but he stubbornly kept his eyes fixed on the path ahead.

“What’s on your mind, Broody?”

Fenris let out a soft sigh and glanced down at the dwarf briefly. He knew Varric was trying to offer him the chance to lighten his burden, but he was unsure if he wanted that or deserved it.

“Just… Hawke”

“Anything you want to talk about?” Varric kept his voice low, in an attempt to stop their conversation from traveling to the others, which wasn’t easy. 

“Am I such a changed man, Varric, that you think I would like to share my feelings with you suddenly?” Fenris let the corner of his lips curve into a smirk as he looked back at Varric; he appreciated the man’s offer, but these conversations never made him comfortable.

Varric grunted in response and turned his own eyes to the path ahead.

“You know I’ll always ask.”

“You know I’ll always refuse.”

The pair walked together for a time longer. By Fenris’ estimation they were about half way back now, but he had no idea what time of night it was. He raised his eyes to the sky and found a multitude of stars; the moon had begun to sink in the sky once more, so the brightness and number of stars visible now was breathtaking. Something else Fenris couldn’t share with Hawke; he’d always loved lying under the stars outside the cities and far away from the crowds. The memory sat heavy in the elf’s chest and he longed to be walking out here now with only Hawke at his side.

Varric suddenly spoke beside him again.

“Since you arrived at Skyhold, I haven’t seen Hawke happier since he left Kirkwall. He was starting to become depressing to be around, you know?”

“He also looked like he belonged in an alienage.” Cassandra’s disgusted voice rang out from somewhere up the line and Fenris was glad he hadn’t taken Varric up on his offer earlier; clearly their voices were too easily heard by the others on this still night. “I wonder how long it took him to shave that beard off.”

Varric laughed before raising his voice to the woman.

“I thought you liked wild beards, Seeker?”

“…Varric!”

Cullen could be heard laughing from somewhere behind them, the banter seeming to have woken him from his sombre mood. A few other quiet snickers spread along the line and Fenris couldn’t help but smirk to himself; clearly this was some sort of private joke he wasn’t privy to.

“Oh Cullen, don’t you start too! I’ll tell them about when you and the Inq-” Cassandra’s annoyed tone was promptly cut short by Cullen’s outraged voice, clearly trying to stop her story before it began. 

“-Quiet! I’ve stopped laughing, Cassandra!”

The snickers from Cullen’s comrades grew into quiet laughter as they still tried to remain respectful of rank, but couldn’t help their amusement.

“Remember when Dorian offered Hawke some of his own clothing, because he hadn’t changed in so long?” Varric, his mind still clearly on his friend, returned the conversation back to Hawke.

“And when he refused Dorian tried to convince Bull to ~carry~ him to their room so he could force him to change.” Cullen jumped at the conversation change, chuckling as he recovered from his close call with Cassandra, to join in the reminiscing. “Bull probably would have after a few more drinks too; if he hadn’t been so jealous at all the attention Dorian was giving Hawke!”

The group openly shared a moment of laughter at the memory, those who hadn’t been present also joining them in a moment of respite from the unpleasant events of the past few days, if only brief. 

“What did he say again? ‘You’re not going for the Solas look too, are you? We don’t need more unwashed apostate hobos in the Inquisition!’” Varric mimicked Dorian’s outrage surprisingly well, and his words were met with more laughter.

Fenris listened to the others quietly as they sought some relief from the past few days, feeling a touch of jealousy that he hadn’t been a part of it. Hearing how much his absence from Hawke seemed to have affected the mage too, however, made Fenris smile a little to himself; it was nice to know he wasn’t alone in his longing for Hawke.

___

The dawn light that finally crept through the forest, helped to perk up the spirits of the group as their march back to camp had turned into more of a slow trudge. By the time they finally reached camp, the soldiers left manning the area were already awake and tending to the fire. Sera and Blackwall were in the camp, sitting on opposite sides of the fire and looking about as exhausted as Fenris felt; perhaps they too had only recently returned. They both glanced up and offered nods of welcome, but quickly returned to staring at the fire. 

Without a word, the group quietly filed into the camp and broke off towards their own tents to seek the comfort of their bedrolls. Fenris too walked directly to the tent he had shared with Hawke, surprising even himself that despite his concerns he didn’t hesitate at all, but was eager to discover how Hawke was. 

He found the flap of the tent wide open and an unfamiliar robed man crouched in the opening. Fenris ducked his head to peer past the man, noticing then that he was adjusting the bandages on Hawke’s chest. There was a bucket of water beside him and a used cloth; presumably used to bathe his patient. Hawke still appeared to have his eyes closed in the dim confines of the tent, and he wore only his small clothes now, a blanket pushed to the side beside him. The blood from the previous night that had soaked through his clothing and into his hair was now completely gone, leaving him looking almost normal; Fenris breathed a sigh of relief. Overall, Hawke’s condition appeared to have improved considerably since Fenris had last seen him. 

The man tending to Hawke looked up as he sensed the elf behind him and offered Fenris a brief smile. He brushed the blonde hair from his face, a look of recognition crossing his features as he also noticed the others walking amongst the tents. 

“Oh, welcome back.” His eyes roved over Fenris then, who was still clad in his heavy armour, “Perhaps you’d like another tent to-”

“-No, thank you.” Fenris cut the offer off abruptly and began hastily removing his armour outside the tent.

Resting his sword aside, Fenris unbuckled and unlatched the metal pieces of his armour, and laid each piece outside the tent as carefully and quietly as he could in his hurry to be at Hawke’s side. Once relieved of the heaviest pieces and now bare-chested, the elf slipped past the man in the doorway of the tent, careful to step over the sleeping Hawke before crouching down at his side.

“How is he? Has he been awake?”

Having watched the elf hurriedly undress to enter the tent and be by Hawke’s side, the man raised a quizzical brow at him now. A faint, knowing smile crossed his lips at Fenris’ unintentional, yet obvious display of affection and concern for the mage.

“Uh, he awoke briefly through the night a few times, but was very restless and burning with fever.” As Fenris’ face grew more concerned at his words, the young mage quickly continued, “But I’ve managed to settle him and his fever has come down significantly. He seems comfortable now.”

“How was he when he awoke?”

“Incoherent.”

Fenris nodded and turned his attention to Hawke, a concerned frown creasing his forehead. He heard the other man quietly begin to gather his supplies.

“Thank you.” Fenris offered him without looking up.

“Of course.” The man backed out of the tent and left Fenris alone with Hawke. 

Once he’d left, Fenris reached out to close the tent flap just as Varric appeared in the opening.

“How is he?”

Fenris held the flap open further to allow the dwarf to look inside, and Varric squinted in at his friend. A smile crossed his lips at seeing Hawke’s improvement and he raised his eyes to meet Fenris’. 

“Thank the Maker. Try to get some sleep, Broody.”

“You too, Varric.”

Fenris pulled the flap closed finally and crouched over Hawke in the dim light. He looked peaceful and at ease at the moment, as though he was merely sleeping. Fenris hoped that would continue once he had fully awoken; Hawke in pain was the last thing he wanted after all this. He wondered then if Hawke would remember what had happened. Was he aware at any point that night? Hopefully those were not memories Hawke would have to endure too; he was content to carry that burden on his own.

Fenris let out a heavy sigh and began removing his sweat soaked pants, carefully placing them aside as he tried to make minimal noise. He was far too exhausted to even consider a trip to the stream to wash, so he simply stripped down to his small clothes and slipped in beside Hawke gently. The elf rested his head beside the other man’s and carefully placed his hand on Hawke’s stomach, careful to avoid his chest injury. He lay still beside his lover, gazing at the side of his head as he continued to sleep peacefully. The familiar sound of his breathing was a comfort to Fenris, a sound he never again wanted to take for granted after having been so close to losing it forever. 

Fenris was desperately tired and longed for sleep, but he couldn’t take his eyes from Hawke now that he was finally at his side once more. He leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on his furry cheek, making a mental note to put Dorian’s razor to use once he’d slept. The elf rested his forehead to the side of Hawke’s as he finally closed his eyes, quickly losing track of how long he managed stay awake. He listened closely to the soothing sounds of Hawke sleeping, breathing in the smell of his skin deeply; bliss. Eventually all awareness left him, and he fell into a deep sleep beside his lover.

___

Fenris lay in a semi-conscious state; somewhere between dreaming and wakefulness. Drifting in and out, he could sense a gentle caress of his skin as if he were lying in silken sheets or floating in a river; he couldn't decide. It was soothing against his body and although he was aware of it, the delicate touch was not enough to rouse him completely. The elf dozed there for a time, his mind singularly focused on the delightful feeling of something gliding smoothly over his upper torso, down his arms and to his hands; the nature and origin of the sensation irrelevant in that moment. 

It was only when the cool, moist cloth wiped gently down the side of his face that his awareness finally reached the surface and his eyes opened abruptly. They flicked about quickly as he tried to recall where he was, the speckled patterns of light and shadow cast on the thin tent walls feeling suddenly foreign to him and sent him into a brief moment of panic. Fenris tried immediately to sit up, but felt a hand on his chest push him back to the bedroll. His own hand shot up instinctively to grip at the wrist firmly, as his eyes finally focused on the person hovering over him in the dim light, his gaze meeting familiar green eyes.

The last time Fenris had looked into those eyes Hawke had been lying motionless on the forest floor; they were lifeless and stared blankly through him. The memory of the fear that he'd felt then, that he might never again see the affectionate gaze of his lover in those eyes, left a sick feeling in his stomach and he let out a faint gasp. But Hawke was here now, sitting up and looking down at him; and that gaze that he'd so longed to see again, was finally directed at him once more.

"It's ok, lie still." Hawke spoke quietly to him, his voice a little raspy.

The mage sat beside Fenris, his other hand still gripping the wet cloth he'd been wiping Fenris over with. The elf loosened his grip on the mage's wrist but continued to hold Hawke’s hand to his chest; it felt warm there, a stark contrast to the last time he'd felt Hawke's skin. The pair gazed into each other's eyes for a long moment, Fenris only wishing he knew what thoughts were going through his lover's mind in that instance, still concerned that perhaps he'd be angry with him; and rightly so. Fenris looked over Hawke's face and the growing beard, the colour in his cheeks, and the tussled hair that was usually so neatly kept; he looked no different today than any other morning after just awakening.

Fenris slowly reached his other hand up to brush his fingers through Hawke's beard tenderly, the touch bringing a faint smile to the mage's lips as he leaned into it. The elf could feel a lump steadily growing in his throat and he clenched his teeth against the emotions he knew he would soon lose control of again. Hawke's cheek felt healthily warm beneath his fingers, the ghastly cold from the previous night completely replaced. The mage continued to study the elf, the expression on his face unreadable as he placed the cloth aside, never breaking Fenris' gaze.

Fenris could feel the tears begin to well in his eyes as he lay still beneath Hawke's searching gaze. The elf shut his eyes tightly in an attempt to stem their flow and turned his face aside as he felt a great wash of conflicting emotions; shame, guilt, relief, joy, hope, all mixed together and too much to bare. Pulling his hand from Hawke's cheek Fenris covered his eyes and let out a strangled breath, embarrassed by how quickly his emotions had betrayed him. 

Fenris felt Hawke catch his wrist and tug the hand gently away from shielding his eyes, his warm breath now brushing against Fenris’ chin as the mage leaned close to pin his arm to the side. 

“Are you alright, love? Don’t hide from me…" Hawke spoke quietly and Fenris could feel him shift to lower the side of his chest against Fenris', letting out a sharp breath as he did so.

The pained sound caused Fenris to open his eyes once more and he looked up at Hawke through tears.

"I should be asking you that."

Hawke gingerly shifted his position again, the grimace on his face telling of the pain his injuries were still causing him when he moved. The mage seemed to find it difficult to get comfortable and opted at last to rest beside Fenris instead, turning to lie on his side to watch the elf. The pair lay side by side studying each other’s faces for a time, before Hawke finally spoke.

"Was it that bad?"

Fenris turned onto his side to face Hawke fully, reaching out to take hold of the mage's hand in his own; the red cloth still tied around Hawke’s wrist where Fenris had secured it the day before. Tears still blurring his vision somewhat and he swallowed the lump in his throat, speaking slowly to try to keep his voice steady.

"I nearly lost you..."

Hawke gave the elf's hand a tight squeeze but said nothing, his expression turning graver. Perhaps the mage only now realised how dire his condition had really been, and he seemed lost for words for once. After a moment of silence Hawke released the elf's hand and reached out to instead rest his hand affectionately on Fenris' cheek, a sad look in his eyes mixed with sympathy for how much the situation had clearly distressed his lover. The look only caused Fenris to feel more ashamed and he could feel his chin begin to tremble as the tears rolled anew from his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Markus... it was all my fault." Fenris shut his eyes once more, unable to meet his lover's gaze any longer.

Hawke's only response was the gather the smaller weeping elf close to his chest, stifling a grunt of pain as he did so, but he continued to hold Fenris there tightly all the same. The grunt from his lover only caused a pained groan from the miserable elf, and he reached out to grip onto the mage's arms desperately, burying his face into his shoulder. 

"I'll be alright, Little Wolf, please don't cry..." Hawke spoke close to his ear, letting his lips linger there before giving him a light kiss.

___

Their intimate embrace continued for a time with the two clutching to each other in silence. The only sounds that could be heard in the tent were the muffled sobs from the elf against the mage's bandaged chest, which eventually died down as Fenris relaxed against the warmth of his lover. His grip on the mage did not loosen, however, as though he were afraid he might lose him forever if he let go.

"I don't remember much..." Hawke eventually offered quietly, finally shifting his position with a sharp intake of breath.

Fenris immediately loosened his grip on the mage and cast him a sympathetic look.

"I'm sorry, Markus, I must be hurting you."

"Holding you was worth a little extra pain." Hawke shot him a brief grin, but continued to adjust his position with a pained look. He rolled onto his back once more and let out a breath of relief. "Sorry, I just feel like I've been in the wars.... But I guess I have!" He laughed lightly, but cut it off abruptly with a flinch "Ow..."

Fenris shuffled in close to Hawke's side and propped himself up on one elbow to look down at the mage. The bandage around his chest was clean, no signs of blood seeping through, though Fenris wasn't eager to see the healing injury beneath it; he wondered how bad it would look and if it would always hold such painful memories. He reached out tentatively and gently stroked his hand over the bandage, wishing for once in his life that he too, could offer Hawke some healing magic of his own. He raised his eyes to look at Hawke, who had fallen quiet and was watching him now.

"...I was ambushed in the forest that night. You followed me in, and then..." Fenris shook his head and swallowed back the horrible memory of watching his lover taken down by the Shadow. "I couldn't get to you in time, and I didn't have my sword..." He shook his head again and turned his eyes aside in shame. "I felt so helpless, Markus.... I'm so sorry." 

"I don't understand, why were we out there with you unarmed?"

Fenris closed his eyes and dropped down to the bedroll to stare at the tent ceiling; he didn't really want to remind Hawke of the details, but he would never lie to him. He let out a heavy sigh, not responding right away as he considered his words. 

"Because I'm an idiot," he finally growled, still not meeting Hawke's gaze as he stared at the patterns of light on the ceiling.

Hawke remained silent in contemplation, but Fenris could sense his gaze on him still. He eventually felt the mage's hand slip into his, intertwining with his fingers lovingly. Fenris turned to meet his eyes finally, unsure of what more to say.

"It was when the Inquisitor and the others arrived, wasn't it? I think I vaguely recall bits and pieces of that night." Hawke looked at Fenris squarely, an earnest expression crossing his face. "I don't blame you, Fenris..."

"Well, perhaps you should."

"No, I should have told you about Dorian sooner."

"No... Don't do that, Markus! This is on me!" Fenris felt the annoyance begin to boil deep down, but he pushed it back immediately, determined not to let himself lose his temper at a time like this; he had no right to be angry at Hawke. Fenris swallowed and forced his voice to soften. "Please, Markus, this is on me."

"You want me to blame you?"

Fenris scowled at his lover, though his look was not intended for Hawke at all and he returned his eyes to the ceiling. Fenris lay there for a moment, his expression pensive as he considered his next words. Finally he rolled towards Hawke and sat up, leaning over the mage and placing a hand on either side of his shoulders as he looked down at him sincerely. Hawke boldly met his eyes once more, reaching up to rest his hand around one of Fenris' wrists fondly. Fenris glanced down at the red cloth still around the mage’s wrist and a faint smile broke his otherwise serious expression, before his eyes returned to Hawke’s.

"Please just let me apologise for the part I played in all this, Markus. If I had just listened to you for once... and not let my blind hatred dictate my actions, this would not have happened. I almost lost you that night, Markus... It was-..." He shut his eyes and shook his head free of the memory. "It was horrible; I can’t even begin to describe it. I can't lose you like that again; I can't bear the thought of living without you..." Fenris shook his head once more before opening his eyes to meet Hawke's.

The mage’s eyes looked a little glazed over at Fenris’ words, though he seemed better able to control his emotions than Fenris; clearly he was more used to sharing his feelings than the elf was. Hawke lifted both his hands to cup Fenris’ cheeks, pulling his face down a little further as he fixed him with an honest gaze.

"Do you trust me?"

"What?"

"Do you trust me?"

"You know I do..."

"If someone who even remotely resembled Danarius was in Skyhold, do you think I would purposely overlook warning you?"

"...I would hope not."

"Only hope?"

Fenris sighed, seeing where this was going.

"You would not, no."

Hawke smiled faintly at the sigh, also seeing that Fenris understood where he was going.

"I didn't warn you because there was nothing to warn about. That said, I do apologise for not making you aware sooner, as I knew you would have strong feelings about him regardless. I was trying to avoid upsetting you; I’m sorry."

"You don't need to apologise, Markus. Please don't." Fenris gave the mage a pained look and shook his head.

"Well I did. And..." Hawke slipped his hands behind Fenris’ neck affectionately, "... you don't have to like him on my account, decide for yourself."

"I'm not interested in talking about Dorian right now." Fenris leaned down and finally pressed his lips to Hawke's, something he’d wanted to do for what had felt like an eternity in the short time since the accident.

Feeling the warmth of Hawke’s lips against his own was divine and he breathed in his familiar scent deeply. Fenris felt the mage’s arms embrace him more fully, resting on his bare back and pulling him in closer; clearly relishing the moment himself. Hawke tilted his head slightly and deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing over Fenris’ playfully as the elf responded with fervour. Fenris rolled his hips towards Hawke, placing a knee on either side of the mage as he returned the kiss with rising passion, but careful not to press his body to the mage’s injured chest. He could feel Hawke breath longingly into the kiss, one of the mage’s hands moving to run through the back of Fenris' hair, gripping almost painfully and pulling him down firmer; it was clear the mage didn't want Fenris going anywhere just yet. 

Fenris broke the kiss, however, to murmur softly against his lover's lips.

"I've missed you, Markus..."

The words brought a faint moan from the mage's lips, and Fenris pressed down with enthusiasm to resume the kiss. Not a moment later, Hawke suddenly let out a sharp painful groan, causing Fenris to immediately sit up, still straddling the mage’s hips but breaking the kiss as he held his hands up innocently.

"I'm so sorry, Markus… I got carried away.”

With a pained expression, Hawke clutched at his chest with both hands, but a faint laugh still escaped his lips.

"It’s ok, but this is probably a bad idea, you might kill me... again."

"Hawke! That isn't even remotely funny..." Fenris growled at the mage, though he couldn’t help feeling relieved that he was already making bad jokes about the situation; he must be well on the way to recovery. 

"Too soon?"

"Much too soon." Fenris replied flatly. “I’m not sure there will even be a time that that joke won’t be too soon…”

Hawke relaxed beneath Fenris, laughing lightly once more as a faint blush suddenly touched his cheeks and he cleared his throat awkwardly. Fenris cocked his head at the bashful mage, confused for a moment by his expression. It didn’t take him long, however, to become aware of the hard bludge he was now sitting on beneath the mage’s small clothes; Fenris couldn’t help but smirk back at him. 

"Hey... don't look at me like that, Fenris. What do you expect when you kiss me like that?" Hawke gave the elf a feigned defensive look.

Fenris’ grin widened and a sly look crossed his face as he leaned down to kiss the mage again, letting the kisses trail down his neck this time as Hawke feebly tried to resist his advances.

"Now you're just teasing a poor, injured man who can't respond the way he'd like." Hawke pushed back at Fenris’ shoulder lightly, clearly without any trace of conviction.

Fenris laughed but proceeded to nip at Hawke's neck playfully, finding that he was quite enjoying the injured man’s pathetic attempts at stopping him.

"Oh, and how would he like to respond?"

"...” Hawke let out a pitiful groan and shifted uncomfortably beneath the kisses that had now reached his collarbone. “…you're a horrible man."

"Am I?"

Fenris continued his descent down Hawke’s chest, carefully placing several kisses over the area he knew his injury to be. He continued to let the tender trail of affection brush over the man's stomach, enjoying the feeling of his warm skin and the tensing of his muscles as the mage flinched in anticipation from the teasing. 

"Seriously, Fenris, please.... I don't think-"

Hawke's words were abruptly cut short as Fenris gripped the hard bulge still hidden beneath his small clothes, his body tensing as a lusty groan escaped his lips, followed by another flinch of pain from his healing body. Fenris glanced up at Hawke, who was now watching the elf closely despite the occasional discomfort his injuries were still causing him. The look of anticipation on the mage's face made it clear he wasn't going to protest any further. 

"Horrible, am I?” Still holding him firmly, Fenris let his tongue graze over the cloth pointedly, watching the mage’s reaction with a smirk.

"Oh Maker! I take it all back..."

Fenris laughed lightly and pulled the cloth aside finally to reveal Hawke's excitement, wasting no more time in offering his lover the attention and release he so clearly wanted. 

___

Fenris rummaged around in his pack for Dorian’s razor, finding it finally hidden beneath everything else. He removed it carefully and quietly returned to sit beside Hawke as he continued to sleep. After his prior, somewhat painful, exertions he looked more relaxed now and comfortable in his slumber; Fenris was reluctant to wake him but the sounds from outside the tent hinted that they would soon be roused to travel back to Skyhold anyway. Bringing the wash water and soap closer, Fenris gently began wetting his lover's cheeks, which quickly caused the mage to begin stirring.

"Shhh... Keep sleeping." Fenris ran a hand lovingly through Hawke’s hair, smiling faintly at the soft regrowth already covering the sides of his head.

"Mmm... What are you doing?" Hawke protested sleepily, a frown creasing his brow as he feebly batted the elf away. Fenris merely waited for him to stop moving before bringing the razor to his cheek.

"Making you presentable."

Hawke murmured a few more times in protest before seeming to find the effort too much and relaxed in defeat. Carefully, Fenris set to work removing the sides of the man's thickening beard; he had never had to deal with a beard himself, but he'd had some practice with removing one when Danarius had ordered it during his years of servitude. Having watched Hawke shave so many times over the years now, that memory had thankfully been mostly overshadowed, to be replaced with more pleasant ones. Although Fenris had never shaved Hawke's beard until now, he knew his lover’s face intimately and so proceeded to shape it into the familiar goatee from memory. 

Feeling the scrape of the blade over his skin, Hawke seemed to relax further as he realised what was happening and a small smile crept to his lips. The mage straightened his head and beared his neck trustingly to the elf, as Fenris continued to carefully follow the curve of his lover’s face with the sharp blade. 

“I think they’re preparing to return, Markus…” Fenris spoke quietly to him, trying not to draw the attention of anyone outside just yet.

Hawke nodded slightly in response, his eyes remaining closed as he tried not to move beneath the blade. 

“Perhaps we can stay out here for a time, and then move elsewhere when you’re feeling up to it?” Fenris asked, tentatively.

The mage’s face broke into a genuine smile and he opened his eyes, causing Fenris to pause in his shaving.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea; just you and me?”

“Just you and me.”

Fenris returned the smile; feeling overjoyed that at Hawke’s reaction to his suggestion. The mage closed his eyes once more but seemed unable to wipe the smile from his lips, making Fenris’ shaving a little more difficult as he navigated around the new curves in his cheeks; he didn’t mind at all. 

As the elf paused to wash the blade between strokes, Hawke opened one eye.

"Thank you for this, love."

Turning back to his lover, Fenris offered him a warm smile as he resumed the shaving; finally feeling whole once more with Hawke by his side.

"There is nothing I would rather be doing."


End file.
